


Here There be Monsters

by SouthernWriter



Series: Out of Darkness [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Rape Aftermath, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27338407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernWriter/pseuds/SouthernWriter
Summary: The supernatural cat is out of the bag, so to speak.  Myths and legends seem to be making a comeback, but where are they coming from?  And what other monsters are hiding in the dark?  Unfortunately, Mac finds out, and Jack is left to pick up the pieces.
Series: Out of Darkness [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996234
Comments: 15
Kudos: 21





	1. When Darkness Comes

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to Faoladh. There will be discussion of rape/ non-con in later chapters, though it is not graphic. I will give a warning on those chapters when they come, but be aware the topic will come up.

Location: Somewhere in France

“When Matty warned things could get messy, this wasn’t quite what I imagined,” Jack groused, his voice growling over the comms.

“What, you mean you didn’t picture us waiting around in a wet, muddy cemetery for a US diplomat’s undead vampire wife to emerge and try to kill us,” Mac teased his Overwatch. 

“It’s you she’s supposedly going to try and kill, Hoss, and no. This situation wasn’t even on my radar,” Jack said. “Sure, laugh it up,” he huffed when Mac chuckled at him. “You’re not the one who could end up with mud caked in his fur if things go sideways tonight.”

“No, I’m just the one that’s turn up in a couple of day, exsanguinated and tortured to death.”

“Uh-uh, no way. That ain’t happening, homey. And the wasn’t funny,” Jack said. The growl in his voice had shifted from mock-grumbling to protective. “I still don’t get why we couldn’t do this during the day, when she would be safely in her grave. Beheading a corpse is a lot easier when it’s not trying to rip your throat out.”

“First, her husband wouldn’t give permission for us to exhume her body,” Mac said. “Second, this is a busy cemetery. Someone would definitely notice us chopping the head off a body here.”

Before either man could make any additional arguments to further his case, Jack gave a reflexive growl, which rumbled through the night.

“Eyes open, Mac,” he warned, the Wolf evident in his voice. “I can smell that undead witch.”

The only feedback he got back was Mac’s strangled yelp over the comm. In response, Jack let his Wolf loose. In a heartbeat, his shape changed, and a large, eight-foot tall humanoid Wolf stood in his place. He let loose a loud roar-growl, a Hunter’s call, and he set off into the dark heart of the cemetery. That undead abomination would pay for laying hands on his alpha.

* * *

Jack yelped as Dr. Amil ran the disinfectant-soaked gauze along another cut on his arm. It was one of nearly two dozen that peppered his neck, chest, arms, and face. The dearg due had not been happy to have her prey taken away from her.

“Sorry,” Dr. Amil said in genuine apology. “But trust me; you don’t want these to get infected. And given what we found under that creature’s nails…” Her light shudder was eloquent testament of her disgust. As a former combat and trauma surgeon, it took a lot to shake the petit doctor.

“I guess what I don’t understand is why you are still so scratched up,” Mac said as he watched his partner get cleaned up. “I thought wounds didn’t carry from one form to another.”

“They don’t,” Jack drawled, discomfort and fatigue deepening his accent, “if you’re going from human to Wolf. Those ancients didn’t want their warriors going into battle already at a disadvantage. On the other hand, I guess battle scars were a sign of valor, so wounds gained while in Wolf form heal faster, but they aren’t completely healed by the Change.”

“Shouldn’t his Wolfy healing take care of any infection,” Riley asked, looking up from whatever Matty had her working on from her laptop.

“If this had been from a knife wound, or a bullet graze, I probably wouldn’t worry about,” Dr. Amil agreed as she taped down the gauze wrapped around the last of Jack’s wounds. “But I’d rather not take any chances with scratches delivered by something from the supernatural side of the spectrum. We’ve already seen some scary stuff from other teams coming back injured from the field.” She made a last note in Jack’s already novel-sized medical file. “Okay, you’re good to go. Keep those cuts clean, and let us know if anything about them seems off.”

“You got it, doc,” Jack said as he slid off the examination table. “Guess we ought to go find Matty for debrief,” he added, looking at Mac and Riley.

“Actually,” Riley said, standing to join them. “Mac and I are headed to meet Matty; we have a flight to catch. You have an assignment here.”

“Whoa, no way you’re going anywhere without me,” Jack protested. “Protecting this pack is my job.”

“Which is why you and Bozer will be flying out to join us tomorrow night,” Riley assured him. “But we need you to do something here first. I’ll let Bozer give you the details, but the gist is we think someone or something is staking out their place. Matty figured you’d want to look into it yourself.”

Jack was torn. Ever since his Change, his protective drive toward his pack had gone into overdrive, so the thought of Riley and Mac being so far away was almost painful. On the other hand, Bozer was pack, too, and if there had been an intruder at Mac’s house, Jack needed to secure their territory before they all headed out of town.

“Would it make you feel any better to know we’re headed back to Ireland, to stay at Ian’s place,” Riley asked. “He won’t be there, but Sean will. I believe Matty said a couple of his brothers will be joining us while we’re there, too.”

Jack relaxed fractionally at hearing that. Sean had been the Wolf who sponsored his Change, and Jack trusted him to look out for and protect Mac and Riley until Jack could get there.

Sensing Jack had settled into acceptance, even if he still wasn’t completely happy, Mac asked, “So why are we headed back to Ireland anyway?” The trio entered the elevator.

“Matty didn’t say,” Riley said, punching the button that would take them to the ground floor. “I think she only told me that much so she didn’t end up with a sore, grumpy Jack in her face arguing about splitting us up like this.”

That made Jack grunt and Mac chuckle. He leaned over and gave the older man a one-armed hug. While Mac himself wasn’t overly physical in his affection, Jack was, especially since his Change. Mac had started making a concerted effort to be a little more tactile with his friend, especially when he thought his Overwatch needed it.

“We’ll be okay,” Mac assured Jack. “You know Sean will protect us like we’re his pack, and it will only be two days, at most, before you arrive. And I promise, no doing anything stupid, foolish, or reckless until you get there.” Mac gave his partner a wry smile. “I’ve kinda gotten used to having my own personal Wookie bodyguard around to watch my back.”

It was late evening before Jack made it to Mac’s place. He’d insisted on driving Mac and the others to the airfield. Matty had given him a fondly exasperated look, but hadn’t argued. She knew which battles were worth fighting, and that hadn’t been one of them.

Upon arriving at the house, Jack let himself in with his key. He’d called Bozer as he left the airfield to let him know he was headed that way, with the plan to stay the night, just in case. The younger man had been agreeable, but gave Jack a head’s up that he’d be out late with some of the other lab techs for a birthday party.

After dropping his bag in the house, Jack decided to do a little preliminary investigating. Even with his enhanced night vision, Jack knew he’d be hard pressed to see much in the dark, but that wouldn’t affect his nose. Without bothering to even pretend to be casual, Jack made an obvious circuit around the perimeter of the house and yard. He didn’t find anything near the house itself, but as he expanded his search, and unfamiliar scent caught his attention. Based on the strength of the smell, Jack knew the stranger had been moving closer and closer to the house, and that he’d been around for a while now. Jack could tell the interloper was male, and a Wolf of some kind. There was a sour undertone to his scent that set Jack’s teeth on edge. If he’d been in Wolf form, his ruff would have been up, and his teeth bared. The closest Jack could come to describing the odor was to say it smelled sick or diseased, but that wasn’t quite right either. Jack just knew the trespasser wasn’t anyone he wanted near the human members of his pack, much less his alpha.

Having mapped the outsider’s incursion into their territory as best he could in the dark, Jack headed back inside. He’d wait until he talked to Bozer before he took any more steps towards securing the house. Maybe this time he could convince Mac he needed a better security system. He was hoping Bozer had actually seen the guy and could point him out. A direct, face-to-face warning would be best in this situation. Barring that, Jack would shift to his four-footed form and do a little territory marking of his own. He could tell from the other’s scent he wasn’t nearly as dominant as Jack. Faoladh may not tier their packs by traditional dominance rules, but most other Wolves did. This creeper would be able to tell Jack was further up the food chain, and hopefully that would deter any further intrusions on their territory. With one last look for anything out of place, Jack headed inside for the night.


	2. Legends Make Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be aware, there is alternate mythology in this and the next chapter.

The next morning Jack sat down at breakfast with Bozer.

“Hey Bozer, I hear there’s been something strange going on here around the house.”

“Man, I swear someone is watching us; or watching Mac at least,” the younger man admitted. “I’ve never caught a glimpse of him, but several times I’ve seen a strange car parked in odd places around the neighborhood. It’s always the same care, but it’s always parked in front of a different house. I thought about running the plates, but it doesn’t have any. And someone keeps leaving cigarette butts out on the sidewalk in front of the house. None of our neighbors smoke, so I know it’s not any of them. I’ve tried looking out for him, you know, leaving the house at different times of the day, coming home at odds hours, but I’ve never actually seen him. I think I got a look at his back one night, but I can’t be sure.”

Jack told Bozer what he’d found last night regarding the scent markers.

“So what can we do about it,” Bozer asked. “If I called to report it to the police, at best they’d tell me that until I could give them more evidence, their hands are tied.”

“Police wouldn’t be much use in this situation anyway,” Jack told him. “We’re dealing with a Wolf; a sick or mentally ill one at that. Human authorities aren’t going to mean much to him.”

“So what do you suggest.”

“I suggest you finish eating your breakfast, and then go get packed for our trip to Ireland. I’m going to go change, and do some old-fashioned territory marking of my own. This guy might be ill, but his Wolf’s going to recognize me as more dominant. If nothing else, it should keep him away for a while and give us time to figure out just who he is. Once we do that, we can either get him the help he needs, or make sure he’s put someplace he can’t get to Mac, or anyone else.”

Leaving Bozer to finish his breakfast, Jack stepped back into Mac’s room, stripped out of his clothes, and let himself turn four-footed and furry. With Bozer’s help getting out the front door, Jack went about defining the edges of his pack’s territory, making sure he left no room for doubt as to where the boundaries were. Once he was done, he debated taking a stroll around the neighborhood to see if he could pick up the intruder’s scent anywhere, or maybe even find his car, but he decided against it. A canine his size, off leash, and with no collar or “owner” in sight was just begging for a call to animal control; not something he wanted to deal with this morning. So, instead, he headed back to the house to change and make his way back to his own apartment to pack and get ready for the trip back to Ireland.

After a long, 13-hour flight, Jack and Bozer arrived at the Dublin airport around lunchtime the next day. Sean and Mac were on hand to pick them up. Mac grinned indulgently as Jack greeted him with a massive bear hug, as had become his habit since his Change. If he and Mac were separated for any real length of time, or in this instance a significant distance, Mac got a bear hug upon reunion. Riley and Bozer were treated to the same attention; Jack said it was how his Wolf greeted his pack, so they all indulged him.

Once they collected all the luggage, the quartet headed out. Once in the car, the questions began, with Mac asking,

“So, did you find the guy Bozer claims has been staking us out?”

“There _is_ someone watching us,” Bozer insisted indignantly. “Just because I can’t provide a description doesn’t mean I’m imagining him.”

“Boze is right,” Jack confirmed. “I didn’t see him either, but I could sure smell him all over the yard. Not only that, but your watcher’s a Wolf. A sick one too, if his scent is anything to go by.”

“I’m assuming you left him a clear ‘no trespassing’ sign before you departed,” Sean said.

“Course I did,” Jack said. “Territory is as thoroughly marked as I could make it. It should keep him out while we’re gone. Once we get back, I’ll do a more in-depth hunt for him. Make sure he knows for certain to stay away. What I want to know, though,” he drawled, changing the subject, “is if the two of you reached an accord, or if Mac’s still trying to decide whether he wants to nuke your ass for scaring him last time?”

Sean and Mac exchanged amused looks, and Sean said, “Your alpha is too forgiving for his own good. But yes; we did figure something out. I’ll leave it to him to tell divulge what boon he asked of me.”

Jack took in Mac’s body language, and the way his eyes were looking anywhere but at Jack; a sure sign he was embarrassed about his request. Jack considered pushing him to tell them, but, ultimately, decided it was none of his business. It was between Sean and Mac, and if Mac was satisfied with the agreement.

“Naw,” Jack said. “That’s between you two.”

From there, conversation moved on to more generic topics. Bozer hadn’t been with them on that first mission to Ian’s place, so he had all sorts of questions for Sean. The usually taciturn Wolf answered all of them with surprising forthrightness, even enthusiasm. If finally dawn on Jack just what forfeit Mac had requested of Sean. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to put it into words; trust Mac to not ask for something for himself.

It was late afternoon when they arrived at the Manor.

“I hate to wake him up,” Mac said softly as they pulled into the drive. Jack was sound asleep with his head on his partner’s shoulder. He had nodded off half-way into the drive. Jack, planes, and sleep didn’t have the greatest of relationships, Mac was aware, especially since his Change; particularly commercial flights. Too many strangers, too many weirds smells, and too much noise for him to really sleep. Mac and Riley had gone in together to purchase him a good set of noise cancelling headphones, and they worked really well, but he would only use them when Mac was around to guard his back. With Bozer there, and Jack feeling like _he_ had to be on watch, he hadn’t been comfortable letting down his guard enough to do more than doze. In the relative quiet of the car, with his alpha and Sean there, Jack finally felt safe enough to go to sleep.

“Better to wake him up now and get him to bed early tonight than to allow his days and nights to get mixed up,” Sean pointed out. “It’s only a few more hours. Besides, he’s not going to want to miss dinner; Ms. Heather made his favorite.”

“Mmm, pot roast with ale gravy,” Jack murmured, head still on Mac’s shoulder and eyes still closed.

“Got it in one,” Sean said. “She insisted when he heard you were arriving today.”

Jack sat up with a large yawn and wiped his mouth to make sure he hadn’t drooled all over his partner while he was sleeping.

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?”

* * *

At Matty’s insistence, all official talk was tabled until the next morning. So, after breakfast, the team plus Sean and Matty gathered in the front parlor to learn just what had drawn them back to the Emerald Isle.

“As we’re all aware, our first mission here led to the acquisition of a computer hard drive containing what we believed to be information regarding a potential attack of some kind on US soil. Given the events of that night, and the team’s run-in with the wolf creature, we even thought we had a lead on just what said attack might entail. It turns out we were both right, and wrong.”

“So, there _wasn’t_ an attack,” Bozer asked, confused.

“Oh, there was an attack, exactly where the notes we decoded from the computer said it was going to occur,” Matty said. “What we didn’t realize until recently is the ‘attack’ we prevented was just a decoy. The real assault took place in multiple locations around the world, simultaneously, and no one even knew anything happened.”

“I don’t understand,” Mac said. “When and where did these incidents take place?”

“That’s just it,” Matty said. “We don’t know.”

“Then how can you be so sure anything happened,” Jack asked.

“Because you chased a Dearg Due in France,” Matty said, “and Javier’s team got attacked by a crocotta in Istanbul. I have an agent who is also a harpy, and a lab tech who is an incubus. We’re getting reports from all over the world of creatures and cryptids long thought to be nothing more than myths, suddenly showing up. Some, like our harpy agent and incubus lab tech, seem capable of controlling their supernatural abilities. Others, like that Dearg Due and the crocotta lose all ties with their original human identity. And,” she added, as though they didn’t already have enough to process, “we’re also getting reports from police, and even troops, about gangbangers and enemy combatants turning into vicious wolf-men. So yes, that attack took place, but we just don’t know how.”

“Okay,” Mac said, his ability to compartmentalize hard at work sorting through the info dump Matty had just given them, “what does that have to do with our return to Ireland.”

“In addition to the information about what we’re referring to as the Lycan attacks, we found a written document; a manifesto of sorts,” Matty explained. “It’s almost embarrassing how long it took us to crack the code it was written in. But considering it was a book cipher based on an obscure copy of _The Fairy Queen_ , written using Klingon, Tolkien’s elvish, an ancient dialect of Irish Gaelic, and Hungarian, using Hungarian grammar, but styled like it was written in Japanese, let’s just say it was a linguistic nightmare to translate. Don’t ask me how they got all those languages to interact in any coherent manner. Even once we got it translated, it still read more like the ravings of a mad man than anything useful. The only seemingly legitimate lead we got was a repeated reference to the ‘Beast of Ossory’.”

“Are you sure it said beast? Not wolf or wolves,” Sean asked, abruptly sitting up straight in his chair.

“Quite sure,” Matty said. “But given its apparent connection to the legend, you can see why it would draw us back to Ireland.”

“Wait, what legend,” Riley asked.

Once again proving his mastery of esoteric knowledge, Mac said, “The legend is about this village or clan in ancient Ireland, referred to as Ossory, around the time Christianity was beginning to gain ground. The story goes, this bishop visits the people there and preaches to them. They not just reject his message, but were apparent quite rude in their rejection. The bishop lays a curse on them, and from then on a one man and one woman from among the people have to spend seven years as a wolf.”

Sean gave a snort. “That’s a much cleaned up version of the story, but I guess that’s what happens when history becomes a bedtime story.”

“So what’s the real story,” Matty asked. “I think we’re going to need the less child-friendly version if we’re going to figure out what’s going on.”

Sean leaned forward, hands clasped, elbows on his knees. “The basics of Mac’s story are somewhat true. There was a clan named from what is now known as Ossory, and the bishop did go to visit them; I had an ancestor assigned to go with him as a bodyguard. The bishop had received word that pagan practices were still being observed among them, and he was determined to stomp them out. When he arrived, he discovered the people of weren’t just observing a few pagan rituals, but had rejected Christianity altogether. He walked in on a ‘fertility rite’ taking place in the chapel itself. My ancestor’s description was, not to put too blunt a point on it, ‘the whole town was engaged in an orgy of hedonistic display, with men and women copulating in every way and form imaginable.’ As you can guess, this didn’t go over well with the bishop, and he did curse them; the whole town. Since they were rutting and acting like animals, then animals they could become.”

“That seems a bit extreme,” Bozer said. “I mean, I can understand his disgust at their desecrating the chapel, but to curse an entire clan?”

“It was an austere time,” Sean pointed out. “Christianity was as much about hellfire as it was godly love in those days. But going back to the story: there was one thing the bishop didn’t consider. The people of this particular clan had ancient ties to the Unseelie court. Now, the next part of the story is only family hearsay and speculation, but it makes sense. You see, the Clan thought the punishment meted out by the Bishop was harsh too. But rather than go to the bishop in penitence, you might say they went the other way. Legend has it they went to Mab, Queen of Air and Darkness; queen of the Unseelie Court.”

“And what is the Unseelie Court,” Riley asked.

“In Irish tradition there are two fairy courts. The Seelie Court is the Summer Court, the ‘good’ one. Really, the Seelie Court is just the less evil court of the two. You’ve probably heard of its queen: Tatiana. On the other hand is the dark court, the Winter Court. Also known as the Unseelie Court. Mab is its queen. Trust me; she knows curses and dark magic. If anyone could alter or adjust the bishop’s curse, it would have been her. You know how in Disney’s version of Sleeping Beauty, when the princess is cursed by the evil fairy to prick her finger and die, but the three good fairies altered the curse so she’d only sleep? Well, family lore has it this clan arranged with Mab to do something similar with the bishop’s curse. That’s why the most well-known version of the legend has only a man and woman changing into wolves for seven years at a time rather than the whole clan.”

“So, who is this ‘Beast of Ossory,’” Matty asked.

“No idea,” Sean said. “As far as we knew, that clan died out generations ago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is complete. I am still editing the later chapters. I will probably post this one faster, just because if I don't I will edit it until forever. This story went in a completely different direction than I thought it would. I thought it would be more about the mystery of what's going on with the supernatural world, and it turned into a kidnap/recovery fic instead.


	3. Out of the Shadows of History

The team spent the next week trying to dig up any information on who the Beast of Ossory could be. In an unprecedented move, Matty stuck around to assist in the search. With the help of a specially written program created by Riley, the assistance of several genealogists hired by Phoenix, and the input of Sean numerous family members and other contacts across several Faoladh clans, the team worked to track all the possible family lines that could have possible had ties to the original clan. It was, like Jack finally pointed out, like trying to find a specific molecule of water somewhere in the ocean.

“Don’t you mean needle in a haystack,” Bozer asked.

“Naw, man,” Jack scoffed. “If we were searching for a needle, my man Mac would simply build us the world’s best magnet and find that needle lickety-split. The way these bloodlines spread out and thinned out over the years, trying to find a single person from the right family, from the right time frame, coming from just the right place, is crazy. I think the only way we’re going to find him is sheer luck.”

In the end, the team didn’t find their target; he found them. It was approximately 24 hours before Matty and the others were set to return home. After a full week of searching, everyone was beyond frustrated that none of their searches had turned up any useful clues. They were sitting around the parlor after dinner, trying to find enough reserves to get back to a few more hours of searching, when the doorbell announced an unexpected visitor.

The man who was shown in was a complete stranger to everyone, even Sean. He was older than anyone in the room; he was also a Wolf. In an instinctive move, both Jack and Sean moved to place themselves between the stranger and the rest of the group. The outsider, in a demonstration of polite Wolf behavior, stopped just inside the doorway and waited. He kept his eyes on the two Wolves, though his gaze was purposefully non-threatening.

“Peace, brothers,” he said in an accented voice. The accent was partly Irish, partly something else. Mac had a sneaking suspicion it might be Hungarian. “I mean you and yours no harm. I heard you were looking for me.”

“And just who are you,” Sean asked. His body language suggested he was moments from going full Wolf if he didn’t like the stranger’s answers.

“My name is Brian Connelly, but you may be more familiar with my other title. I am the Beast of Ossory.”

* * *

After a moment of surprised silence, Matty finally spoke up.

“Mr. Connelly, why don’t you join us? We have some questions we’re hoping you can answer.”

Connelly looked at Sean. The elder Wolf nodded once.

“Guesting customs are in place,” he said in an oddly formal tone. “No harm to me and mine, no harm to thee and thine.”

“No harm, and a gracious guest I’ll be.”

After the odd little interaction, Connelly fully entered the room and took a seat. Refocusing his attention on Matty he said in a tone more curious than patronizing, “I’ll answer what questions I can. But tell me, my lady. Who is alpha here? I scent but two Wolves here. The descendant of Lugh I recognize. The other, I hear, defeated one of my stepchildren when still a human. You are dominant, no denying that. But you are not the alpha.” 

He looked to where Mac, Riley, and Bozer were seated. “I doubt it the Fae-born,” he said, dismissing Bozer. “Fae are too…flighty to make good alphas.” 

He turned his gaze on Riley. She met his eyes briefly, but couldn’t hold them for more than a second or two. “The young lady is spirited, but not the alpha.”

Finally, he looked at Mac. Mac met his gaze and held it, until the stranger averted his eyes. The man startled everyone by rising to his feet and giving Mac a short bow. Once he was back in his seat, he said, “You can always tell a true alpha by the confidence in his eyes. Our more…visceral brethren take that to mean the physically strongest or most vicious, but those so-called alphas are just bullies. It is an honor to meet a true alpha, mixed-blood though he may be.” Then, before anyone could ask just what he meant, Connelly turned back to Matty. “I believe you have some questions for me.”

“We do,” Matty said, deciding not to pursue the odd moment they’d just had. “As I’m sure you’re aware, our people came into possession of some computer files some months ago. Your title was mentioned prominently among those files, along with references to some, shall we say, unusual activities that purportedly took place a while back. Given the nature of some of the language, we are concerned about just what really occurred.”

“Please,” Connelly said with a small smile, “don’t beat around the bush. Despite my more…beastly nature, I am not easily offended. I’m quite aware you were on hand to stop the various attacks set up by my step-children. I must say, that was some impressive work by your people; barely a mention of it made it into the newspapers. But your concern is really for what those attacks were meant to distract from. I’m sure it won’t reassure you, Ms…”

“ _Director_ Webber,” Matty corrected.

“I’m sure you’re not going to find it reassuring, Director Webber, when I tell you the other ‘attack’ you’re are so concerned about has been in the works for a very, very long time, and it had already started long before any of you were even aware there was anything to be concerned about. At least, that is what my patroness tells me.”

“Your patroness,” Matty asked.

“I think, perhaps, I should give you a little history. As I’m sure you’re aware, Wolves can live a longer life than your run-of-the-mill human. Tell me, how old would you say I am? And be honest; you won’t insult me.”

“Fiftey-five? Sixty,” Riley guessed.

“I am actually 92,” Connelly said, startling everyone, save maybe Sean. “And I have been a Wolf a very long time. My first Change occurred when I was 15.”

“Wait, I thought the Ossory Wolves were only Wolves for years,” Bozer said. “You’ve been a Wolf eleven times that long.”

“The original curse indeed set the terms at seven years. What was never explained was that only applied if there was both a male _and_ a female descendant to fulfill the conditions. As I’m sure you discovered during your investigation, all the other bloodlines have died out. I’m the last of all them. What our ancestors didn’t tell us, or maybe didn’t realize, is what would happen if we ever reached the point where there was only one descendant left. I was fifteen when the last of the older generation completed their seven year cycle, and the curse fell on me. Except, when I hit 22, and the curse should have ended, it didn’t. And unlike lunar-dependent Wolves, who must Change at the full moon, or Wolves like the Faoladh, who have complete control over their Change, I Change every night. From sundown to sun-up, I am forced to take Wolf form. My only saving grace is that I do keep my human mind, but there are times that almost makes it worse.”

“How do you mean,” Mac asked.

“Think about it. I change every night, regardless of where I am, what’s going, or what I would rather be doing. Consider all the things I _can’t_ do. Dating, attending a show, parties, going to the club; anything that occurs after sundown, or extends after sundown, is out. And this has been my life since I was 15. I hit my teenage years, and all the events teenagers look forward to, I lost out on. I would often sneak out and watch my classmates doing all the things I would never have the chance to do. Now, my days are ruled by what happens to me each night.”

“That sucks,” Riley agreed.

“Quite. I have never married, or entered into any sort of serious relationship, because how could I ask anyone to accept this cursed life? I certainly can’t have any children of my own, because I refuse to pass this wretched existence to another generation.”

“I think we can all agree your life has maybe been a little less fair than most peoples’, considering you were dealing with something not your fault,” Matty said. “But other people have dealt with crappy lives and managed just fine. So what does all this have to do with our situation?”

“Why, my dear director, everything. After decade upon decade living a lonely, solitary existence, I am rather ashamed to admit I let my pain and anger get the best of me. I decided if I had to live in misery, I was going to visit that misery on others as well. So I began to experiment with ways of sharing my curse with others. I tried a numbers of methods, most of which I detest myself for now, but none of them made the impact I was trying for. Ultimately, I was forced to move away, which is how I ended up in Hungary. And that is where I met my patroness. Now, as professionals yourself, you will understand signing a non-disclosure agreement, so I can’t tell you much about her or her company. However, she has approved this meeting, and gave me permission to provide some basic information. So all I can tell you is her name is Maeve, she has a background in bio-chemistry, and she has a bigger reach than you can imagine.”

With that enigmatic statement hanging in the air, Connelly began to excuse himself.

“Sundown will be upon us too soon, and I must be away before that occurs. But, before I depart, I do have a small gift to leave with you. It come with the compliments of my lady.” From the front hall he fetched, of all things, a case of bottled water.

“It may not seem like much, but my patroness assures me this is a very special offering indeed. She wanted me let you know, given the right circumstances, this gift has the power to change your life.”

And before anyone could question him further, Brian Connelly was out the door and gone.

After Connelly departed, Riley moved to investigate the “gift.” To all appearance, they were just bottles of water. The simple label simply read Saoirse with a subtitle: Let Yourself be Free.

“Hey,” Riley declared. “I know this stuff. It’s the hottest fad in refreshment right.”

“You’re right,” Bozer confirmed. “I think we’ve even tried it before.”

Jack picked it up and examined it, only to scowl and put it back down.

“I recognize this crap. Riley and Bozer seemed to like it. I couldn’t drink it; it tasted like old blood to me.”

That got Matty’s attention. Jack was notorious for liking pretty much everything. For him to come out so boldly against something so seemingly innocuous as bottled water was worth taking note of.

“Okay, nobody get into that water. I want the labs back at Phoenix to check it out. Now, get yourselves off to bed. We need to be packed up and out of here tomorrow morning.”

* * *

Other than maybe Matty, no one else slept that well that night. Fortunately, unlike the flight Jack and Bozer took from LA, this time they were on the Phoenix’s private jet. Once everyone was settled on board and they were in the air, the whole team was able to fully relax, and they all were asleep in no time.

Jack, who had been on edge the majority of the trip, slept the longest, finally able to completely relax with his alpha and pack safely surrounding him. Still, four hours into the flight home, everyone was awake, and conversation turned to the discussion that had taken place with Brian Connelly.

“So, what do we think about Connelly’s story,” Riley asked as the group gathered in the center of the plan.

“He gave no signs I could sense that he was lying,” Jack said. “His heartbeat stayed steady. There were no other physiological changed I could detect.”

“I would have to agree,” Matty said. “I didn’t see any of the micro-expressions that usually indicate someone’s lying.”

“I don’t think he was being dishonest,” Mac observed, “but I’m not convinced he was being completely honest, either. I think he told us just enough to make it seem like he was giving us information, but if you think about it, he really didn’t tell us much. He claims he attempted to spread his ‘curse’ to other people, but he didn’t really explain how. He called those wolf-men creatures that attacked Jack his step-children, but again with no explanation why. And this Maeve individual, his so-called patroness. It seems really sketchy that someone with her apparent qualifications would seemingly come out of the woodwork to help him with his personal vendetta like that.”

“What alarms me, or at least raises some red flags, is that none of us pushed him for more answers,” Matty commented. “Normally I would have pushed for more information, but it was like my brain was fogged.”

“Same here,” Jack said. “I don’t know what it was. Connelly was a dominant Wolf, but no more so than Sean or me. But anytime I attempted to question him, my Wolf would withdraw like I was facing another alpha. I don’t know, man, it was weird.”

“I’ve already started a search on scientists named Maeve or Maven, just to cover all our bases,” Riley commented. “But with so little information to go on, it could take a while, if I find anything at all. And that’s assuming she gave him her correct name at all.”

“I got the researchers at Phoenix started looking as well,” Matty said. “For now, we’ll let them take the lead on that search. I’ll take that bottled water to the lab for analysis as well. Even if you have tried the public version, there’s always the chance that this one was tampered with before it was delivered to us. I’d rather not take any chances.”

“So, what’s on the docket when we get home,” Mac asked. “Anything we need to be preparing for?”

“Nothing as of right now,” Matty said. “Things are actually fairly quiet, and it’s making me nervous. I feel like something is on the verge of happening, but I don’t have any idea what it could be. That being said, I want everyone to head home and get some rest. I realize Mac and Jack in particular were coming off a rather physical job, and this one has been mentally wearing. So, take the rest of today and then all of tomorrow. I’m sure you have things you need to get done at home. I will see everyone back at the Foundation the day after tomorrow.”

* * *

It was late evening by the time Mac and Bozer arrived at the house. It had taken some persuading on Mac’s part, but Jack had been convinced to go back to his own place for the night. He had been concerned about the strange Wolf that had been hanging around Mac’s place, but Mac had assured him they would be safely locked away in the house for the night. He’d had every intention of following through on that, until they discovered they’d had a power outage at some point while they were gone, and everything in the fridge was spoiled.

“Okay,” Mac said with a tired sigh as he and Bozer surveyed the smelly mess. “You stay here and start cleaning up. I’ll head to the grocery store. If nothing else, we’re going to need more garbage bags, so I’ll get a few staples to tide us over for the evening. Then we can do an actual run tomorrow to start restocking.”

With the plan agreed upon, Mac headed back out into night. That was the last anyone saw of him for nearly a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is where my story took a sharp turn away from what I thought would happen. I figured I'd write Mac disappearing as a subplot, and it took over the whole thing. Hope you enjoy it anyway.


	4. A Hole in the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more altered mythology added in this chapter, especially surrounding the Faoladh.

Mac had been missing for 18 days, and Jack was about at his breaking point. His empty jeep had been reported by a concerned citizen who had seen the opened door and abandoned grocery bags, but no sign of the driver. Since Phoenix had people monitoring all local emergency calls, just in case it turned out to be something local LEOs couldn’t handle, they had caught the 911 call and alerted Jack and the others. Jack had arrived on scene first. Despite the police and onlookers, he had immediately recognized the scent of Mac’s nameless stalker. He’d recognize that sickly odor anywhere, though this time it was tinged with an edge of excitement that bordered so closely to lust it made Jack physically ill.

Matty had opted to let the local officials run the initial investigation, preferring to have Riley use the permanent backdoor she’d programmed into their system to track their progress that way. Without the need for warrants, and with Riley’s magic fingers on the keyboard, they were able to dig deeper and faster into any leads the police turned up. Unfortunately, leads were few and far between. A few hairs in the jeep came back as an impossible humanoid-canine mix. The Phoenix lab, of course, identified the hairs as Wolf, but that wasn’t new information since Jack had already identified the culprit. There were no fingerprints on the grocery bags other than Mac’s; same with the jeep. A detective had talked to Bozer, who had told them about the unknown watcher, but since he’d only gotten a bare glimpse of the man’s back, he hadn’t been able to help much. The CSI team had collected a few cigarette butts from the yard and sidewalk, but with no hits in any of the databases, not even the more extensive ones the Phoenix Foundation had access to, they were a dead end as well.

The closest they came to a lead arrived 18 hours after Mac was taken. Jack received a computer-generated text message consisting of only an address. Jack had barely waited for the go-ahead before he had a TAC team assembled and on site. When they went in all they found was a dead Wolf and a whole lot of nothing else. Jack got a vague hint of Mac’s scent, but it was so faint it was clear he’d been there only a very short amount of time. There was yet another, new, scent overlaying both Mac’s and the dead Wolf’s, but it wasn’t one Jack recognized.

“It’s not human,” Jack told Matty as their people processed the scene. “At least, not completely. But it’s also not Wolf. I feel like I _ought_ to know it, but it’s just not coming to me.”

At that point, the trail went completely cold. Whoever took Mac and killed the Wolf, who himself was still unidentified, left absolutely no trace; no hair, no fingerprints, no trace evidence, nothing. And now here they were, nearly three weeks later. It had taken the combined efforts of Riley and Bozer as the remaining members of Jack’s pack, plus every ounce of authority and influence Matty had, to keep Jack going. Matty had finally been required to threaten to toss his butt to Medical for an IV if he didn’t start taking care of himself. Jack had started eating and trying to sleep regularly, but it didn’t seem to help. Matty had finally called Sean to see if he could provide any insights that might help Jack.

“Jack told me he owed Mac what he referred to as ‘a Wookie life-debt,’ but I thought he was just being melodramatic,” Sean told her. “From what you’re telling me, I’m afraid it’s a little more serious than that. You don’t see it much anymore, but centuries ago it wasn’t uncommon for a Faoladh to bind him or herself to the clan alpha. This was much more than just a vow of loyalty. It became an actual link between the two, and if anything happened to the alpha, it could lead to the death of the subordinate Wolf. I knew the bond between Jack and Mac was an exceptionally close one, but I had no idea they were tied this closely. I afraid if you don’t get Mac back, you’re going to lose both of them.”

* * *

Jack felt as though his world was coming down around his ears, like his worst nightmare had come to life. When that first call had come in, letting them know Mac was missing, Jack had been alarmed but hopeful. After all, it wasn’t the first time someone had snatched Mac. Even standing there with the scent of the mystery Wolf in his nose, Jack hadn’t been too worried. Mac was too smart to stay the prisoner of some poor excuse for a Wolf for too long. And then they found the Wolf’s dead body in that empty house, with no sign of Mac, and no leads. At that point, Jack felt his grip on his emotions starting to slip. When they reached the 48-hour threshold with no hint of Mac, and then the hours kept ticking by, so did what seemed to be Jack’s grip on his sanity. He couldn’t focus, he couldn’t eat, and he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t explain it to anyone else. Jack wasn’t usually one to wax poetic, but if felt like there was hole ripped out of his soul. He kept checking for blood because he hurt too bad not to be wounded.

Jack was forced into taking care of himself by the remainder of his pack, and by Matty’s fond authoritative bullying. Knowing he wouldn’t be any good for Mac if he didn’t take care of himself, Jack pushed himself to eat and drink whatever Bozer or Riley put in front of him. He allowed Medical to prescribe a sleeping aid to help with his insomnia. The only place he could find any sort of rest was at Mac’s, curled up on his alpha’s bed where his scent could surround and sooth him. Still, regardless of what he did, it was obvious to everyone, even Jack himself, that he was ever so slowly slipping away.

Jack was aware of Matty calling Sean. He was the only other Faoladh they were acquainted with, and he knew much more about their lore and ways than Jack did. After Matty spoke to Sean, she insisted Jack do so too.

“Jack, talk to me brother,” Sean urged. “You’re scaring the rest of your pack.”

“I don’t know, man,” Jack said. “I mean, Mac’s been missing before. Sure, not as long, but this is far from the first time he’s been taken. But this time, I can’t think or focus. There’s this buzzing under my skin, like I should be doing something, but there is nothing for me to do. I…I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Ah, Jack,” Sean said sadly. “This is the downside to the very special bond you have with your alpha. Not many wolves achieve this level of connection. It take honest, unconditional love and loyalty to another to forge it, and not many can look so far beyond themselves. What you have is so exceptional, we don’t have an actual name for it. Our ancestor’s believed to name something so…sacred if you will, would have cheapened it. And I will tell you what I told your boss. There is a link forged between you and Mac; a life-tie of sorts. And if the worse happens, and you don’t get your alpha back, there’s a very good chance you could die too.”

Jack huffed a small, humorless laugh. “A literal Wookie life-debt! I’ve always told Mac if he goes kaboom, I go kaboom. I guess that’s an real thing now. I actually find some comfort in that,” he confessed. “I feel bad about leaving the others behind, but I can’t imagine going through life with this hole in my world. Sooner or later, I’d fall in, and maybe drag the others with me.”

“Just, try and hold on a little longer,” Sean encouraged. “If, no, when you find your brother, he’s going to need you. Don’t abandon him before you know the race is truly done.”

* * *

Two nights after his talk with Sean, Jack dreamed of his partner. He couldn’t see where they were, but the atmosphere was cold and menacing. His view of Mac was hazy at best, but what he could see nearly shattered his heart. It wasn’t so much that Mac looked nearly dead, as much as he looked like all life and vitality had been drained right out of him. Blue eyes, usually so full of life and intelligence, were dull, almost colorless. Blond hair lay lank and greasy against his head. And practically every bare inch of him, and every inch _was_ bare, was covered in blood and bruises.

“Mac,” Jack whispered in a broken voice.

“J…Jack,” Mac said, voice hoarse and scratchy, destroyed, Jack imagined, from screaming. “Pl…please.”

Jack wasn’t sure if Mac was pleading for him to find him, or to make his obvious misery end. He reached out, desperate to wrap his arms around his kid, provide any sort of comfort or relief, but his arms just went right through the image of his partner.

“No,” Jack moaned, tears flooding his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The mournful refrain was all he could say.

“Jack, s’okay,” Mac whispered. “What e’vr happens, not your fault, k?”

“No, it’s not okay.” Jack’s reply was sharp with fear, guilt, and grief. “I’m your Overwatch. Taking care of you it what I do. And I failed big time.”

It was like Mac didn’t hear him. He just stared bleary-eyed at his partner as his image started to fade.

“Mac,” Jack screamed, doing everything in his power to keep his partner with him. “Mac, stay with me. Where are you? Who has you? Mac!”

Jack sat straight up on the bed. Although he’d been crying in the dream, his eyes were completely dry. So dry they burned. His chest, however, felt like someone had hollowed him out with a dull spoon. Jack knew, without needing confirmation, that Mac was dead or dying. Alone, hurt, and without even the comfort of familiar arms or faces around him as he went. Jack’s only consolation, slight it may be, was the knowledge that, very likely, he would soon follow.

And then, from its place on the nightstand, his phone rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, did the dream actually happen, or was it just Jack's mind? I'll leave that up to you to decide.


	5. Follow Where You Lead

Jack didn’t recognize the hissing, raspy voice on the other end of the line, and he didn’t care. The nameless caller simply provided an address and hung up. Within half an hour, Jack was in the War Room, everyone assembled at his terse command.

“Jack, you can’t go storming in there,” Matty tried to argue as Jack strapped on his TAC gear. “It could be a trap.”

“Don’t care, Matty.”

“You don’t even know if you’re going to find Mac,” she pushed.

“Don’t. Care. Matty.”

“You could get yourself killed.”

“I don’t care,” Jack roared, whirling to face his boss. “And it’s not like I’m not under a death sentence anyway. Either we find Mac and I get him back, or he dies and takes me with him. Matty, I have always followed wherever Mac has led; this is no different. But if there’s any chance at all that this call will lead me to him, I am going to take it. Now, I would love to have the back-up, especially medical, in case we find him, but I’m going regardless.”

Matty nodded, as if his outburst has verified something for her.

“There’s that Dalton fire we’ve been missing,” she said with approval, startling Jack slightly with her self-satisfied tone. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get out of here and go find your partner.”

* * *

Thanks to Riley, Jack and the TAC team had a satellite image of their target location. The address their mystery caller had provided was an abandoned house. The closest neighbors were two miles away, making it the perfect place for holding a kidnap victim. As soon as they breached the front door, the same unfamiliar scent Jack had come across back at the house where they’d found original perpetrator’s death body flooded his senses. Along with it came the scent of Mac, blood, and vile, stale, musky sent Jack couldn’t identify.

The search of the main part of the house revealed no sign of Mac, though it was obvious someone had been living here. Dishes were stacked neatly in the sink, and a partially used case of bottled water was sitting beside the fridge.

“Bag and tag it all,” Jack ordered his team. “I’m headed to the basement.”

Following his nose, Jack soon found the door. The smell of his partner and blood was so strong here it made Jack feel slightly ill. Without warning or preamble, he tore the door open and stepped through. The sight that met him was something out of his worst nightmare.

A single lightbulb overhead provided just enough illumination to see the sprawled, bloody body in the middle of the room. A quick check revealed Mac was the only one present, so Jack allowed himself to focus his attention strictly on the still form. Rushing to his alpha’s side, Jack was brought up short when he reached him. Just like in his dream, other than Mac’s face, there wasn’t one inch of skin not bruised or bloody. The amount of old, dried blood on the walls, the puddle of blood, and other bodily fluids, surrounding Mac on the floor told their own, horrifying stories as well. As did the way his body was situated. He was flat on his back, head away from the door. The only thing he was wearing was a collar around his throat.

Dropping to his knees with a growl, and ignoring how the still warm blood began to soak through his pant legs, Jack searched desperately for a sign Mac was still alive, even as he stripped out of his jacket. This he draped over his partner in an attempt to preserve his dignity. No way he was letting anyone else walk in and see his boy so vulnerable. With no idea where to touch his partner without hurting him, Jack couldn’t tell if Mac was still alive, much less breathing. It wasn’t until Jack attempted the remove the offensive collar from his kid’s neck with shaking finger that his answer in the form of a very faint whimper.

Hitting his comm, and tossing the disgusting collar off into the shadows, Jack called desperately for a medic, even as he tried to figure out where all the fresh blood on Mac was coming from. He finally found the wounds; five deep slashes across his abdomen. Without a second thought, he placed his hands over the wounds and pressed down with as much pressure as he could, desperate the stem the bleeding. Mac grunted, and a sliver of blue eyes appeared. When he saw Jack, he fought to open his eyes further.

“Hey there Hoss,” Jack said, voice rough with emotion as he met Mac’s pained gaze. “You just hang in there now. Ol’ Jack’s got ya; you’re gonna be okay.”

Mac’s gaze turned troubled. “Venom,” he whispered, barely loud enough even for Jack’s superior hearing. “Blood…not…clot.”

“Okay,” Jack acknowledged. “I’ll let the medics know. They’ll be here in just a minute. You just keep breathing for me kiddo.”

“Not ‘nough time,” Mac wheezed. “Too…much…blood.” His eyes fluttered closed.

“No. No, no, no, no,” Jack cried, feeling the tension in the body under his hands beginning to fade. It scared him that Mac didn’t even seem to be trying to fight. “Don’t you do this to me. Don’t leave me. Mac, please. Stay with me. Please stay with me!”

At that moment, the medical team arrived, and Jack was gently but firmly pushed aside. Bandages were torn open and IVs put in place, but Jack could read the desperate body language of the individuals in front of him. Mac was dying, and there was nothing they could do about it. It was telling that no one bothered calling for a gurney, and no attempt at relocating Mac to a medical facility was made.

“I’m sorry,” Theodore, the head medic said to Jack as he and his team stepped back. “We can’t get the bleeding to stop, and he’s already lost too much blood. He’d be gone before we made it a half mile down the road. It’s up to you, but I think he’d rather go with his brother at his side than surrounded by strangers in the back of an ambulance.”

Jack silently moved back to Mac’s side. The bandages around his middle were already soaked through with blood. Unashamedly, Jack let the tears filling his eyes fall.

With the utmost gentleness, like one would handle a newborn, Jack pulled Mac into his arms and cradled his head against his chest. Sobs tore through him, shaking both of them with their intensity. The very lightest flutter of fingers against his chest told him Mac wasn’t quite gone just yet.

Drawing back a little, Jack looked down into his brother’s eyes. Reflected back at him was every bit of love, gratitude, and loyalty Jack himself felt for Mac.

“Please,” Jack begged. “Don’t do this. Don’t leave me behind. There has to be something we can do.” 

“S’okay, Jack,” Mac whispered. “Glad…yur…here. Did’n…wanna…die alone.”

A howl of grief began to build in Jack’s throat. The sound that came out was the mournful cry of a lost wolf, grieving and alone. The sound, however, seemed to spur Mac back to life, and in true Macgyver fashion, he found one, last, saved-from-the-edge-of-disaster idea.

“Jac’,” Mac murmured. “Wolf.”

It was clear Jack wasn’t following him, so Mac tried one last time before his eyes fell closed.

“Jac’. Wolf. Me.”

Jack’s eyes flew wide as what Mac was saying clicked. “Mac, Mac, wake up. Please wake up” Jack called, shaking his partner slightly to get his waning attention. “I think I get what you’re saying, bud, but I need to be sure. Do you accept the Change? You have to give me permission, homey. I can’t make this decision for you.”

“Yes.” The word was nearly silently, but Jack heard it loud and clear anyway.

“Okay,” he whispered. Carefully laying Mac back on the floor, he took a slight step back. The medics, thinking Mac was gone moved to step forward, but a brusk motion of Jack’s hand kept them back. With brisk efficiency Jack stripped out of his body armor and boots, until he was only in his undershirt and pants. Then, in the space of a heartbeat, an eight-foot, 800-pound wolfman stood where he had previously been. 

Ignoring the shouts and cries of alarm from the startled and scared medical team, Jack knelt next to his fading partner. Further shouts, and orders to stand down announced the arrival of the TAC team, but Jack disregarded them too. He knew they weren’t going to shoot, not with the chance of hitting Mac.

As Jack could hear Mac’s heartbeat getting slower and slower, he flipped his left arm over, exposing his forearm. Using a claw, he sliced open the skin, squeezing to encourage the blood to flow. Once he had enough to thoroughly coat it, he placed a blood covered hand against the wounds on Mac’s belly. Firmly, almost roughly, he pushed his hand against the wound, doing his best to force his blood into Mac’s body. He repeated the process twice more, despair growing as there seemed to be no change in Mac’s condition. Desperation, love, and grief all came together, and in a way Jack wasn’t sure he could describe, he _willed_ Mac to accept the chance he’d been given. 

A sudden sharp pinch at his neck, and a wash of lethargy sweeping over him warned that he’d been deemed a threat, and someone had gained enough courage to tranq him. As the world began to go fuzzy and dark around the edges, Jack fought hard to stay awake, but it was all for naught. A howl of grief, never to be released, clogged his throat, for even as his world went black, the sound of Mac’s heart, slowing, dying echoed in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost just posted through this chapter today.


	6. Ought to Be Here With Me

As Mac slowly returned to consciousness, his senses of smell and sound were the first to come back. Through his senses he could tell who was, and wasn’t in the room. He could smell Bozer’s favorite aftershave and the sub sandwich he preferred from the local shop. He could also smell Riley’s body spray and the salad she’d had for her lunch. He could hear the quiet conversation the pair were having, something about Bozer’s current project down in the lab. Then, unexpectedly, the memory of what had taken place over the last who knew how long, came back, and Mac’s mind threatened to send him tumbling back into darkness. With a supreme act of will, Mac forced his thoughts away from the too recent, too raw memories. Instead, he focused on what else he couldn’t find. What he didn’t hear or smell was his partner. No smell of gun oil and leather. No Texas drawl, hoarse from too many hours talking to his unconscious partner. No Jack.

That absence was enough to drive Mac to full awareness. He sat up abruptly, only to be reminded, painfully, why that wasn’t a good idea.

“Mac,” Riley and Bozer both exclaimed in unison.

“Hey, guys,” Mac rasped.

“Hey, man, how you feeling,” Bozer asked, handing him a plastic cup of water.

“I’ve been better,” Mac admitted after a short sip from the straw. “Guys, where’s Jack?”

Bozer and Riley exchanged the briefest of glances, but it was enough to put Mac on alert.

“Guys,” he pressed again. “Where is Jack?”

“He’s…away for the moment,” Riley told him. “He has a few things he needs to square away with Oversight before he can come see you. Right now you need to worry about getting better. You’ve healed a great deal, but there were a lot of wounds, and your body is still fighting off the effects of whatever venom you had in your system. Jack will be back as soon as he can.”

Mac scowled at his friends. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “And Jack would never have willingly left me to recover on my own, not even for Oversight. So I want you to stop prevaricating and tell me where he is.”

“Mac, you have to understand,” Bozer said. “Jack shifted to his Guardian shape in front of a full TAC team, and the medical team sent to rescue you. He freaked a lot of people out. That in and of itself takes some…careful handling. Not to mention he attempted an unauthorized Change. On you.”

“It wasn’t unauthorized,” Mac countered, frustration mounting. “I’m his Alpha; _I_ gave him permission. We both knew it was the only way to save my life. And there are no prohibitions on when or where Jack can assume his other forms.”

“Mac, please try to calm down and listen. You have to understand, the medics had all but called time of death for you,” Riley said. “Between the blood loss and all that poison in your system, you were in no mental state to give informed consent. He never should have asked. At the very least, he should have cleared it with Matty first.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! It wasn’t Jack’s idea to Change me, it was mine,” Mar argued. “I knew exactly what I was asking him to do. He never would have attempted the Change without my agreement. Not even to save my life. Las I check, Matty’s not his Alpha; I am. Besides, I’d be dead if he’d waited for her okay.”

“This is Jack we’re talking about,” Bozer said. “He tends to act before he thinks when it comes to you. And you just admitted you were minutes from death. Desperation and panic make people to stupid things; even Jack.”

“Are you even listening to yourselves,” Mac exclaimed. “This is Jack ‘shoot-me-instead’ Dalton we’re talking about. He would never have done something so extreme from panic or desperation. And since what he did most definitely saved my life, at _my_ request, I’m not sure I see the problem here. It’s not like he went out and Changed some stranger. Would you rather I had died instead of Jack respecting _my_ wishes and Changing me?”

“Of course not,” Riley tried again. “We’re not any happier about it than you are, but Jack broke the rules. He promised he wouldn’t try to Change anyone.”

“He didn’t break the rules, he improvised. It’s kinda what we do. Besides, he only promised he wouldn’t try to Change anyone without express permission from his alpha.”

“And Matty,” Riley interjected. “He was supposed to get authorization from you _and_ Matty.”

“I’m only going to say this once more. _I’m_ his Alpha, and _I_ gave him permission. Besides, I’m the one who was Changed. They should have waited to hear from me before some arbitrary discipline was assigned. Jack is one of mine; not theirs.”

“I know you’re not aware of this, but it’s been five days since we rescued you,” Bozer said. “The rumor mill had it that Powers-That-Be were calling for Jack’s head. We weren’t sure how long you would be…unavailable. Matty tried to intercede, but she was overruled. We haven’t actually seen Jack since he left to rescue you.”

Anger was joined by adrenaline, and all thought of his own injuries left Mac’s awareness. His own hurts could wait until he got the final member of his pack back.

“Then get Matty down here. Tell her Jack’s Alpha’s awake, and needs to see her. Now.”

* * *

By the time Matty made her way down to Medical, Mac’s doctor had been by to check him over, and had removed all the lines and IV connections. He’d even cleared Mac to get dressed, noting that the cuts crisscrossing his body were healed up enough they weren’t likely to tear back open, and therefore didn’t need bandages, though they were still plenty tender. No mention had been made of the more intimate injuries on Mac’s body. Dr. Ryan would wait to address the care of those once Jack was safely returned to them. So rather than the vulnerable, barely aware patient she’d hoped to have this conversation with, Matty was faced with a fully conscious and aware genius, senior agent, who now also happened to be a full-blooded Alpha werewolf. An Alpha who was missing not just a member of his pack, but his Overwatch and Beta, and wasn’t pleased about it.

“Glad to see you awake, Blondie,” Matty said as she entered the room, determined to go on the offensive and head her opponent off.

“Glad to be awake,” Mac replied, recognizing her gambit, and not playing along. “Now cut the BS and tell me where Jack is. And no more obfuscating. I know Oversight is throwing a hissy fit and taking their temper out on Jack. You’re going to tell me where he is, and I’m going to find him and take him home. He’s one of mine, and they had no business interfering with _my_ pack.”

As Matty stared in Mac’s bright eyes, it dawned on her they hadn’t taken into consideration just was becoming a Faoladh would mean for Mac himself. They were all used to Jack’s overprotective disposition; it was a natural part of him. But the Faoladh were protectors and guardians. Their term for pack translated to family. And Mac was the Alpha of this pack. No one quite knew what to expect from having a true Alpha Wolf around, especially one as unique as Mac. The other three Wolves, beyond Jack, weren’t nearly as dominant, and took orders easily. Mac bucked orders regularly, and was anything but easy on his best days. On top of that, he’d just been saved from one hell of a traumatic event. There was no telling how that would be affecting his mental status. If the gleam in his eyes was anything to go by, they were all in for a hell of a time. Getting Jack back had just become a necessity for Mac’s sake. Oversight might have been able to play power games with her, but Mac wasn’t going to put up with that crap. Ironically, for once since Jack had been taken, and with a pissed off Macgyver once more arguing with her, Matty actually felt back in control. With Mac on her side, there wasn’t anything they couldn’t accomplish, even taking on Oversight to get Jack back.

“He’s being held in an off-sight holding center,” Matty said. “He’s been there since the rescue operation. And while I have no true idea what Oversight’s definition of ‘discipline’ is, I don’t think it’s anything either of us would have agreed to. I tried to argue this was a chain of command issue, and that they should let me handle to discipline, but Oversight refused. However, if you’re feeling up to it, I think having Jack’s Alpha show up to find out what they’re doing just might change their mind. It will definitely get their attention.”

Mac gave her decidedly wolfish smile.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

The detention center, from the outside, looked like any other anonymous business park. The front entrance looked like any generic reception area, including the requisite secretary. Said secretary who was now squawking and protesting that Matty and Mac didn’t have the clearance to enter the confinement area.

“We do now,” Matty informed her as Riley quickly hacked the system and let them through. “And go ahead and inform Oversight we’re here. I’m sure my Alpha friend here would love to have a face-to-face with whoever put his partner, and Beta, in here.”

With the clearance Riley had created for them, Mac led the group onto the elevator, pushing the button that would take them to the appropriate floor. When they disembarked, it took a little while to locate the correct room, since none of them were labeled. Once outside the door, Mac turned to address his companions.

“I think it’s probably best if you three wait out here. With no way of knowing what they’ve done to Jack, I can’t guarantee he’s not going to be dangerous.”

“Isn’t it just as dangerous for you, too,” Bozer asked, not comfortable letting his best friend face a potential threat alone.

“I’m a lot harder to kill now, Boze,” Mac reminded him. “Besides, I’m also Jack’s Alpha. That’s going to be a stronger influence than anything they might have done to him. He won’t hurt me.”

Without waiting for any further arguments, Mac opened the door and slipped inside. He had a sudden, unexpected flash of terror as the interior of the room, ever so briefly, flashed him back to the dismal room he had been kept in. The room was bare of any furnishings save an uncomfortable looking concrete slab for a bed. A drain in the middle of the floor told Mac a little too much about how things were handled in this facility. Any thoughts of his captor, or the lingering trauma he’d inflicted on Mac’s body and psyche, were quickly pushed away as Mac’s gaze found Jack.

The older man was lying supine on the concrete “bed,” eyes closed. The tension in his body told Mac he wasn’t asleep, and that he was in pain, though Mac couldn’t see obvious wounds. A fain scent of old blood, and an unsettling chemical smell, warned Mac there was more going on than met the eye, however.

“Jack,” Mac called softly.

Gingerly, as if every move hurt, Jack rolled slowly until he could see Mac standing by the door. A bright smile lit his face, belying the obvious pain he was feeling.

“Mac,” Jack said. Or rather, whispered. His voice was so hoarse and raspy it was almost painful to listen to. He continued to try to sit up, but only made it part of the way. A pained grunt escaped him, and his body froze in obvious discomfort.

“Easy,” Mac said, coming to his assistance. “Let me help.”

“You’re alive,” Jack murmured in awe as he allowed Mac to help him sit up. “They wouldn’t tell me anything. I…I thought…” he let the sentence die out without finishing the thought.

Mac took a seat next to his partner, an arm around his shoulders automatically drawing him closer. Jack buried his head in Mac’s shoulder, soaking in his scent and warmth. Neither mentioned the tears likewise soaking said shoulder.

“What did they do to you,” Mac asked as he felt Jack shudder and tremble against him, and the unnatural heat of a fever warming his body.

Jack winced and shook his head.

“Nothing I can’t handle, hoss,” he rasped. “I’ll be alright.”

“Jack, you can’t move without hurting, and I could feel the heat coming off you from across the room. Now, someone has hurt a member of my pack, and I need to know exactly what they did.”

Jack gave a little shiver as the full weight of his Alpha’s authority hit him, but he found comfort in that weight as well. He couldn’t help but feel safe; with Mac there, nothing could hurt him anymore. _This_ is what it meant to be pack: safety and shelter when you were hurt, and protection while you healed. And while Jack hated letting Mac take care of him, when it was Mac who had been kidnapped and tortured and traumatized first, he couldn’t deny the relief in knowing his partner was alive and there to have his back. He’d let himself be taken care of for now so he could be there for Mac when the time came.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’d rather move this conversation to a medical facility,” Jack said. “After all, if I’m going to have someone dig 30 something iron slivers out of my body, I’d rather be on the good stuff before they get started.”


	7. The Oncoming Storm

The ride back to Phoenix medical was one of the most unpleasant in Jack’s memory. Bozer and Matty were in the front seat, while Jack was sandwiched between Riley and Mac in the back. He’d been offered a seat next to the door, but the comfort of being surrounded by his pack, Mac’s strong, steady, **living** heartbeat sounding in his ear, was worth the discomfort of being sandwiched between his two kids, not to mention the jarring pain caused by even the smallest bump in the road. As they traveled, he painstakingly described what had been done to him after he went lights out at Mac’s side.

“I woke up in an interrogation room, or least something like it,” Jack said, wincing as a bump in the road jostled his pain-filled body. “Since I was still in Guardian form, they had me muzzled and shackled. I couldn’t see, or smell, whoever was ‘debriefing’ me. Whoever it was knew how to hide from a Wolf.”

Matty scoffed. “I saw the recording of that so-called debriefing. That was a kangaroo court, plain and simple, and the outcome had been decided before you were through the door. I’m pretty sure the only thing that saved your life was having Mac as your partner. It seems not even Oversight wants to get on his bad side if they can outright avoid it. Why else weren’t we met with a security team when we tried to leave?”

“Whatever you want to call it, I wasn’t there very long. I think I was still fuzzy from whatever was used to knock me out, because it wasn’t until they strapped me down on that operating table that I really understood what was going on.” He gave another shudder, this time from memory rather than pain, though the groan that escaped revealed how much he was hurting even now. “The so-called ‘doctor’ came in covered from head to toe, no skin showing. They also pumped enough sage into the room it took me three days before my sense of smell recovered. He was carrying a nail gun, or it’s ugly bastard cousin.” Jack whined at the recollection, a painful, animal-like sound that no living creature should be able to make.

“Easy,” Mac soothed. He wanted to rub Jack’s back in comfort, but they’d already discovered physical contact was excruciating, and Mac didn’t want to add to Jack’s agony any more than he had to. “You don’t have to finish this now.”

“I don’t think I can actually stop myself,” Jack admitted. “Have I mentioned the drug they kept dosing me with? I can’t stop talking even if I wanted to. Besides, talking’s the only thing keeping me from screaming at the moment. Now, remember how I told y’all how iron interferes with a Wolf’s ability to shift, and how it has been used it as a torture method in the past? I got to experience it first-hand. See, that nail gun, rather than spitting out nails, was loaded with dozens of small iron needles, maybe 5 mm acrosss. They started with my extremities and worked their way in.” 

By now, Jack was full on quaking, but with the drugs in his systems he was unable to stop. “They injected the needles into the bone and sat back and waited while the surrounding tissue was forced back into human form. Each and every time I could feel the bones break and re-heal. I could feel the muscle shred itself apart and reform. But since it was only a small portion of the bone and muscle, it wouldn’t line up properly with the un-Changed tissue around it, so it caused a lot of strain and pressure as my body tried to keep everything connected.” 

By now, tears were rolling down Jack’s face, whether from pain, the memory, or just stress it wasn’t clear, but no one took any notice since he wasn’t the only one. “After the first few, I tried to just do a complete Change, to go ahead and shift back to human,” Jack continued, his voice not quite a sob, but certainly not steady, “but I couldn’t. I tried, but it felt like my bones were burning. That sadist performing the ‘procedure’ laughed when I tried. He just waited until I stopped screaming and then injected the next needle.”

Unable to stop the motion this time, Mac wrapped an arm around Jack and drew him in close. Jack lay his head on his partner’s shoulder, grateful for the emotional comfort. The scent of his Alpha filling his nose, and the knowledge he was now safe outweighed any physical hurt he was feeling.

“How…how many,” Riley choked out. It wasn’t just morbid curiosity; she was in communication with Dr. Ryan about what had happened to Jack, and he needed to know how many needles they were looking for so they could remove all of them.

“32,” Jack said. “One in each hand and foot, four in each arm and leg. One in the sternum, three on each side for my ribs, and two small ones in my cheekbones. They made me count them as they injected them. And if I lost count, they made me start over, ‘helping’ by pressing on each injection site as a reminder.”

This time it was Bozer growling from the driver’s seat.

“Afterward, they tossed my in that lovely suite where you found me,” Jack resumed. “I don’t know how long I lay there. I couldn’t move. It felt like I could barely breath. At some point someone came and sprayed me down; I was little grimy from their ‘disciplinary measure.’ I tried asking about Mac, but they wouldn’t tell me anything. No matter how many times I asked if he was alive, no one would say one way or the other. They just dumped that crap in my system and walked away.”

Mac had a much too vivid image of his partner, hurting, barely able to move, begging for information on the partner he was being tortured for trying to save, flash through his mind. Choking on regret and self-loathing, Mac whispered, “I’m so sorry. This is my fault.”

“No way, hoss,” Jack countered, settling his head more comfortably on his partner’s shoulder. “You weren’t the one using me for a pincushion.”

“No, but it was because I asked you to Change me that _they_ did.”

“Mac, they had a tranq dart on hand, strong enough to take me down in under 30 seconds,” Jack pointed out. “Someone’s been just waiting for an excuse to do what they did. If anything, I think Matty’s right. I have you to thank that I’m still breathing; I’m still alive because you are. Oversight knew you’d be looking for me as soon as you were on your feet. They had to deliver the maximum amount of pain in the shortest amount of time possible.”

“What about the drug you were being dosed with,” Riley asked. “What was that about?”

“Sleep deprivation,” Jack said. “It was intended to keep me awake. You know, to not let me escape their torture through unconsciousness. Works like a charm too. I’ve had maybe 8 hours since this whole thing started. The yackety-yack just happens to be an unexpected side-effect.”

“Well, Oversight had better watch out,” Mac growled, as they pulled up in the Phoenix parking garage. “I’ve got you back, and you’re alive. I’m not happy about their treatment of you, but we’ve got enough other things to deal with right now. But next time they touch a member of my pack, I _will_ have something to say to them about it.”

“You just focus on taking care of each other,” Matty told him, a fierce, protective anger burning in her eyes. “You both have a lot of healing to do. _I_ will be having a… discussion with Oversight. No one, and I mean **no one** , is going to torture one of my people on my watch, and certainly not under the guise of ‘discipline.’ I’ll let you know, though, if they need a little extra persuasion.”

Dr. Ryan met the group at the car, and immediately rushed Jack away for surgery. It had been clear Jack’s temperature had been rising even as they made their way across town, and the pain had been getting worse. With the iron in his body interfering with his Wolf-generated healing abilities, the possibilities of infection and impeding shock had both been very real. Fortunately, the drug in his system used to keep him awake was easily identified and counteracted. It helped it was past time for his next “dose,” so most of it was already out of his system.

While Jack was being cared for, Mac was encouraged to get some rest himself. It had been easy to forget in the face of Jack’s obvious suffering that Mac had only just awoken from his own stay in the medical wing due to a traumatic experience of his own. Dr. Amil had given him a once over, making sure none of the cuts covering his body had re-opened, and then directed everyone to a two-person room where they could wait. The doctors knew from experience they were better off putting Mac and Jack in the same room to recover. Surprisingly, Mac had agreed to lay down to rest, so long as the doctors agreed to not try and re-admit him. The compromise had satisfied everyone, and Mac settled on the bed farthest from the door to take a nap.

Jack was brought in from recovery over four hours later. He was asleep, but Dr. Ryan gave Mac and the others the run down on how the surgery had gone.

“That was tough,” Dr. Ryan said simply. The fatigue in his face and eyes suggested he was understating the matter. “Whatever those bastards used to inject the needles lodged them so deeply into the bones, that of the 32, I had the physically break the bone to remove 20 of them. Jack is actually very fortunate to be a Wolf in this instance. He’s going to be hurting when he wakes up because, beyond making sure the bones were properly re-set, I didn’t cast any of them. Once he’s awake enough, I’m going to encourage Jack to do a full form change. For one, it will let us determine if there was any pieces we missed, though I’m mostly certain we didn’t. Secondly, and more importantly, it will do an immediate repair of all the broken bones, and will eliminate any infection he may be carrying. And on the side of mental health, I think Jack will mentally be better off attempting that change sooner rather than later. From what I heard, the last time Jack attempted any sort of shape change, it caused intense pain. I don’t want him to develop a mental block and not be able to Change in the future.”

“Hey, doc,” Mac said. “Do you think it would work for me too? I mean, would it help these claw marks all over me to heal faster if I were to try to Change?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure, Mac,” Dr. Ryan confessed. “We still don’t have a fix on the venom you were injected with, and while you are healing far faster than normal, it’s still not as fast as I would expect to see. I truly don’t know what would happen if you attempted to Change while it is still in your system. Personally, I’d prefer if you erred on the side of caution, and waited until all the venom was fully metabolized.”

“And just how long will that take,” Mac asked with some frustration. 

The tone almost made Dr. Ryan smile; Mac was actually starting to sound more like his usual self. “The venom is metabolizing very slowly, which I’m sure you don’t want to hear. It’s going to be at least a week before I’d even consider signing off on a Change.”

“The kid can just hold his horses,” a tired voice interrupted. Everyone turned to see Jack awake; mostly. His eyes were open just a sliver, drugs and pain turning the brown of his irises so dark they were nearly black. “I want to be fully awake the first time Mac takes Wolf form.”

“Welcome back, Jack,” Dr. Ryan said. “I’d ask how you’re feeling, but I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah, doc, I thought I was supposed to feel better after all the needles were pulled out. Right now my bones feel like they were put through a rock tumbler.”

“You’re not too far off. I was forced to break quite a few of them just to get the needles out,” Dr. Ryan confessed. “Now normally I’d be encouraging you to rest up about now. But what I’d really like for you to do right now, though, is to shift to Wolf form, canine not Guardian.”

Jack got a hesitant look on his face that, had it been anyone else, Mac would have said looked scare

“You sure that’s a good idea, doc,” Jack prevaricated. “I mean, I just came out of surgery. And I’m running on a sleep deficit. Maybe I _should_ rest up a bit more.”

“I’m sure the thought of Changing seems intimidating right now, but it would be best for you in the long run. You have around 20 bones I had to either crack or all out break in order to remove those needles. Those bones are still cracked or broken. They will heal better, and faster, if you will go through with the Change.”

When Jack continued to hesitate, Mac chose to step in.

“Hey, Jack. I’m pretty sure the doc’s going to cut me loose as soon as you’re ready to go. Thing is; I don’t think I can stand to be alone right now. Ev..Everything that happened to me? I don’t want to be alone in my head. If I’m going home and crawling back in bed, I need my furry bodyguard there with me.” Mac was as startled as Jack at just how truthful he was being. Mac hadn’t realized until he verbalized it that, no, he couldn’t stand the thought of being alone. Memories and thoughts he’d rather not dwell on threatened to well up now that the immediate emergency was over. Up until now he’d been too busy worrying about Jack to think about what he’d been through. With Jack on the mend, and the fear, anger and adrenaline fading, Mac was beginning to process his own experience. Being alone in his head was he last thing he wanted.

Jack may not have been able to Change to help himself, but he would do whatever his partner needed. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Jack Changed. The large, golden Wolf appeared on the bed in his place, looking slightly silly with the paper gown wrapped around him.

“Okay,” Dr. Ryan said, eyes roaming over his now canine patient as he helped free him from the gown and surgical dressings. “You were ablet to do a complete Change, so we obviously didn’t miss any needles or needle fragments. Anything I need to know about? Any pains that shouldn’t be there?”

Jack woofed and shook his head. With his permission, Dr. Ryan gave the Wolf a thorough examination, running a hand over head, ribs, back, and legs. When it seemed clear everything was back in place and completely healed up, Dr. Ryan stepped back.

“Okay, Jack. Everything looks good. However, I am letting Matty know I don’t want either of you back at work for a month, minimum. No arguments,” he added when Mac opened his mouth to protest. “Physically, I have few concerns about either of you healing. Jack’s already there, and, barring any unexpected complications, it won’t take Mac long to catch up. But gentlemen, you were both put through a terrible ordeal over the past three weeks. The wounds I’m concerned about aren’t the one I can do anything about. If I thought it would do any good, I’d require you both to speak to the company therapist. But I know neither of you are good at opening up to strangers. So, go home. Rest. And talk to each other. Remember, you’re no good to your brother if your physical wounds are the only ones that heal.”


	8. At Last I See the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter discusses rape/sexual assault/non-con behavior. Nothing graphic, but a disturbing, non-sexual assault is described. One character using derogatory language in reference to himself. Please read with caution.

Once Jack was officially released, Bozer drive he and Mac home. As Mac walked into his room, his nose told him Jack had spent a lot of time in here during the time he was missing. Looking at his canine partner at his side he gave a sad smile. 

“I’m so sorry I put you through all this.”

Jack bared his teeth just a little, and Mac could almost imagine him chastising his younger partner for blaming himself for getting kidnapped. Mac gave a humorless laugh, and Jack nudged him with a wet nose toward the bed.

“Yeah, yeah; no need to be pushy.” Mac yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Come on you big fluffball; I need to get something to eat first, then I think I need another nap.”

* * *

The next two days proceeded in pretty much the same manner. Mac did a lot of sleeping, but only so long as Jack in his four-footed shape was by his side, which was fine, because Jack needed to catch up on his sleep as well. The one and only time Mac tried sleeping on his own, he woke up after 45 minutes begging and screaming for his tormentor to stop. After that, Jack was glued to his side. Bozer stayed as close as he could comfortably get away with, and he certainly filled the fridge with Mac’s favorites, but he seemed to understand Mac wasn’t comfortable letting anyone other than Jack in his personal space. Even then, Mac didn’t like for even Jack to touch him. 

In typical Mac fashion, he refused to discuss anything that had happened to him. He’d listen to Jack vent and verbally process his ordeal as long and as often as needed, but he steadfastly refused to speak about his own. Jack couldn’t even get him to provide the name of either of his kidnappers. Jack was certain Mac knew the name of the man who had hurt him, but he wouldn’t reveal it, no matter how often Jack asked. He just kept adamantly insisting since Jack has rescued him, he was fine, and that he just wanted to move on. He adamantly refused any help dealing with his more intimate injuries, even when it might have been easier with a second set of hands.

If it wasn’t bad enough Mac wouldn’t speak about what had been done to him, his physical injuries were also proving rather obstinate. Bruises that should be mostly healed were still purple and tender over a week later. Worse, several of the numerous wounds littering Mac’s body, particularly the deep ones across his abdomen that had nearly killed him, were starting to show signs of infection. Drs. Ryan and Amil were perplexed, and more than a little troubled.

“We just don’t know enough about the supernatural elements at work here,” Dr. Ryan said after his latest appointment with Mac revealed the younger agent was beginning to run a fever. “The venoms we found in the bite and claw marks are similar to a couple different types of snake venom, but they didn’t respond to any of the known treatments. Several of the wounds are completely different in nature, being penetrating wounds, rather than bites or cuts, but all Mac will tell us is they were inflicted with an ‘organic object’. Maybe there was something on said object that doesn’t show up in our tests that’s causing this. Maybe it’s something else he came in contact with. We have no way of knowing if this will just have to run its course, or if it’s something to be concerned about. Right now all we can do is treat the symptoms and hope for the best.”

The course of treatment prescribed by the two doctors was a round of stronger antibiotics, and daily cleaning of the infected injuries. Mac was sent home with a bag of supplies, an appointment to return in a week’s time, and instructions to call if his condition deteriorated any further.

Mac was adamant about wanting to care for the wounds himself. That lasted until the first time he actually attempted it. It was going on bedtime, and Mac had just finished his shower. Waterproof bandages had kept the injuries dry, but now it was time to clean and redress them. With only a towel over his lap to maintain his modesty, since he couldn’t get dressed until his abdomen was re-wrapped, Mac pulled the adhesive free. However, the first touch of his antibiotic-coated fingers to the raw injury had him gasping and involuntary tears of pain flooded his eyes. Unbidden, images of claw-tipped hands tearing across his bare skin flashed through his mind. He could practically feel them splitting his skin, tearing through tissue and muscle. Mac started hyperventilating as panic set in, and the tube of antibiotic cream dropped from his hand.

“Whoa, hey there, hoss,” Jack’s gentle voice said, cutting through the pained haze and disturbing memories. “Why don’t you let me do that?”

“No,” Mac exclaimed, jerking away and hunching painfully in on himself, doing his best to cover up with his damp towel. “Don’t touch me.”

“Easy there bud,” Jack soothed, coming to squat in front of his partner, making sure to keep his hands to himself. “I’m not going to touch with your permission, but I can’t stand seeing you hurt. For my sake, if nothing else, let me help.”

“You don’t understand,” Mac choked out, still in his self-protective huddle. “After what he did, I can’t stand having anyone touch me, because I can still feel _him_. There are times I don’t even want to be in my own skin.”

Not wanting to break the spell now that Mac was opening up, Jack just silently moved to sit next to him on the bed, hoping his partner was willing to finally open up. He tried to make sure he wasn’t close enough to trigger a panic attack, but still close enough to provide support. It worked, because Mac kept speaking.

“It…it was just beatings at first. Nothing we haven’t been through before. You know how sad it is when a beating is just something routine? He didn’t even touch me with his hands. His claws.” Mac shuddered and gagged just slightly. “Just a leather strap of some sort. Top to bottom, over and over again. It was like a daily chore for him. Make dinner, brush his teeth, lay another layer of bruises. Or he’d dig out the good ol’ cattle prod.”

Mac stopped, and Jack was afraid that was all he was going to get. But the bottle had been uncorked, and there was no stopping the flow.

“He took all my clothes, you know. So when I say from top to bottom, I mean that literally. It hurt to sit, to stand, to do anything, even breathe. And then he got bored with the beatings and decided to do something else.”

Mac haltingly described how he was suspended by his wrists from the ceiling, gasping and choking until he nearly passed out, only to be dropped to the floor to recover, only to do it again and again. Never had Jack wanted to gather his kid up and assure him he was safe more than he did in that moment, Mac’s body language said he still wasn’t ready for physical contact. What he described next explained precisely why.

“He had fangs like a snake,” Mac said, reaching up unconsciously to rub at the bite mark on his shoulder. “The venom would cause muscle paralysis, but did nothing to stop the pain. That’s when he would use his claws. He had venom sack under them too. Except that venom was an anti-coagulant. He would slice and slice my skin, like dozens of papercuts, and they would bleed for hours. Never enough to be dangerous, but weakening me little by little every time. And then the thing he would do with his tongue. I…I can’t even.” This time Mac lost the fight with his nausea.

Silently, Jack help Mac move away from where he’d been sick. He fetched a towel and glass of water from the bathroom. The towel he tossed over the top of the mess for the moment; the glass he handed to Mac. He’d worry about cleaning the mess up when his boy was settled. After helping Mac rinse his mouth, he set the glass on the bedside table and retook his seat on the bed next to his kid.

“He bragged no one would ever find me,” Mac said, sobs now wracking his body. “He would hurt me and…and touch me, all the time reminding me I was all alone. And I never fought him. I didn’t try to escape. Why didn’t I try to escape?”

“You tell me,” Jack said. “Why didn’t you escape?”

Mac gave him a hurt look, but Jack just hushed him. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jack assured. “First of all, Mac, what happened to you in that room wasn’t your fault, whether you tried to escape or not. Consider this, homey. You don’t give up; you certainly don’t just give in. So what was different this time? I think you were scared. Not surface level, this could kill me scared, but that kind of scared you only get when you know for certain that the shadow in the corner isn’t just a shadow. You know the feeling; when you’d walk into a house Downrange, and you wouldn’t be able to say why, but you just knew there was a bomb there somewhere. You didn’t know where it was, but there was a gut-deep knowledge there was something deadly just out of sight. I know because I felt it too. I walked into that house, and my Wolf about burst out of my skin. He did not like it there. I think that’s why you didn’t try to escape. Your lizard brain had taken over, and no higher levels of reason or thoughts could get through. You went straight from fight or flight to freeze. There’s no fighting that kind of fear, man.”

For several minutes Mac just sat and sobbed, finally allowing himself to feel everything he’d pushed back while a prisoner. The fear, the sense of abandonment, the despair; all the emotions he couldn’t show his captor or admit to himself while he was stuck in that house.

Jack just sat next to him, letting him cry. Mac didn’t like to let loose like this, but Jack knew he needed the catharsis. In the meantime Jack cast his mind back over his experience at that house. Unbidden memory of the scent he hadn’t wanted to identify, in conjunction with the way Mac had been posed when Jack found him, came boiling to the forefront. Taken in context with Mac’s discomfort with being touched, and there was only one ugly conclusion Jack could draw. When he could no longer deny just what it all indicated, he forced himself to ask, “Mac, I talked to doc. He said your initial examination seemed to indicate…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Mac was quick to interject, knowing what his partner was trying to ask, but unable to even hear the word said aloud, much less acknowledge it. Still, he wasn’t sure who he was trying to protect: Jack, or himself. “Was I… sexually assaulted? You could definitely say that. He certainly used my body for his own gratification. No matter how you look at it, his touch was unwelcome and invasively intimate.” 

“Hey, man, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t feel comfortable sharing,” Jack assured him.

Mac’s voice went dry and rough as he confessed, “I think I need to say this. I need it out of my head. You see, he could use his tongue to…to pierce flesh. I’ve nev…I’ve never seen anything like it. You know that comic book character, Venom? It was kind of like his, but blue. It was blue, and slimy, and pointed, and longer than any tongue I’ve ever seen. He could push it right through the skin.” Mac’s hand went unconsciously to the puncture wounds on his belly. “I can still feel it, squirming and wriggling inside me, touching and…and _licking_ things inside of me. Jack, he _enjoyed_ it. Like, really, really enjoyed it, if you know what I mean. And he knew how much it…it appalled, no, disgusted me when he did that, so he made me beg him to do it. He called me a whore, and a slut, and made me participate while he used me.”

Although Mac didn’t say it outright, Jack was pretty sure he meant used in the worst meaning of the word. By now, both men were in tears. Jack longed to gather his hurting partner into his arms and promise to keep him safe, but he wasn’t going to do anything to make his already hurting partner uncomfortable in any way. Mac had already had his autonomy trampled on enough. It was a wonder he’d put up with Jack hanging all over him after they pulled the older man out of his cell in the detention center. Now, more than ever, Jack wanted to find the monster who had dared put its hands on his kid and hurt him like this and rip its throat out.

Jack’s thoughts were interrupted by a quiet question from Mac.

“Jack, were you ever…? I mean, did anyone ever…”

“I think the word you’re looking for is raped,” Jack said very matter-of-factly. “You want to know If I have ever been raped. I’m not sure if the truth will make things better or worse for you, so I’ll just say I’ve been in the situation where it may have happened. I can only say I’m so sorry you were ever put in that position.” Jack’s voice broke as he continue. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t find you. I’m sorry I left you in his hands like that. If only I’d been smarter, or more prepared. Maybe you need a better—”

“Don’t you dare,” Mac exclaimed, choking back his own sobs. “You are exactly the Overwatch I need. Jack, Murdock was the one who had me, who hurt me like this. There was nothing you could have done. You can’t prepare for Murdock, you know that. And yet you beat him.” Mac gave a tear-strangled, half-hysterical giggle. “He did…that…to me, and then he ripped my belly open with those venom coated claws. His plan was for you to show up and watch me bleed to death. In his perverse little fantasy, you all showed up to find me like…like that, only I died in his version. He certainly wasn’t expecting you to Change me, to make me a Faoladh. If I’d had any other Overwatch, I’d be dead.”

With a trembling hand, Mac pick the tube of antibiotic cream up off the bed and extended it to his partner.

“Are you sure?”

“You know words aren’t my thing. I hate being emotionally vulnerable and trying to put my feelings into words. But I trust you. I trust you to save my life. I trust to give me what I need, even at the expense of what you need. And I trust you with this.”

Jack accepted the tube, and moved to sit on the bed next to Mac. Slowly, hesitantly, Mac lowered the towel from around his shoulders and sat up straighter on the bed. For the first time since they’d been reunited, Jack saw the full extent of the damage Murdock had done to his partner. Bruises, though partially healed, still lay in layered stripes down his shoulders, chest, and back. Bite marks marred the top of his left shoulder, his right bicep and the nape of his neck, and those were just the ones he could see. As Mac said, claw marks crisscrossed his chest, arms, back, and further down beneath the towel miraculously still covering his lower half. There was an unusual, puckered mark at the juncture of his right shoulder and neck, two more, bigger, down on his belly, nearly hidden by the overlaying claw marks that had nearly killed Mac, and two or three more scattered across his torso.

Moving slowly and with great care to allow Mac to see exactly what he was doing, Jack gently coated the wounds on Mac’s belly. Mac tolerated it, though he became jumpy anytime Jack’s hand came close to those puncture wounds.

“Easy,” Jack murmured. “Almost done.” Five minutes later he was wrapping the bandages around Mac’s abdomen. “There you go, kiddo.”

Taking a chance that, since Murdoc hadn’t marked Mac’s face he might not be as sensitive to being touched there, and needing to make contact somehow, Jack cupped his partner’s cheek with a gentle hand. He was rewarded when Mac leaned into the touch and closed his eyes.

“You’re gonna be alright,” Jack promised. “It’ll take time, but I promise you will be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about writing about exactly what Murdoc did to Mac, but I decided your imaginations were better suited for deciding that. It's sometime scarier not knowing the details. So, you can decide just how intense the interaction between Mac and Murdoc was, and just what Mac means by the things he describes to Jack.


	9. Raindrops From the Storm Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm at least trying to be semi-realistic about how Mac might react after the trauma he's been through. No offense is intended toward anyone who has been through this kind of trauma, so please excuse this author's clumsy attempts.

Following that night, Mac refused to talk about the events of his kidnapping again. And as much as Jack wished Mac’s breakdown had been the magic pill that fully healed him mentally and physically, he was aware trauma doesn’t work that way. The emotional release Mac had given in to that night had simply been the scab getting knocked off a deeper wound. Some of the poison had been lanced, but the injury was still there. It was going to take a long time before this wound fully healed and Mac learned how to live with the scar.

Trauma affects everyone differently, and Mac was no exception. As the marks on his body began to heal, it became clear they were going to scar, particularly the deeper ones on his belly, and the marks where Murdoc had pierced his skin with his tongue, but he had numerous scars along his arms and shoulders as well. Mac had never been able to bring himself to Change, so his body healed in the normal way. As a result, Mac took to wearing long sleeves, often in layers, to cover up the marks. He tried to act like they weren’t there, but when he’d get stressed or anxious, he’d start rubbing unconsciously at the ones along his lower belly, almost like they were hurting him. Given what Jack now knew about Mac’s experience, he wasn’t surprised the kid had developed a new tick for those times he felt out of control. As long as it wasn’t harming him, Jack was willing to ignore it for the time being.

Thankfully, Mac’s kidnapping hadn’t left him with any sensitivities to smells or tastes, so his appetite wasn’t affected, but humming and whistling would make him start to quiver. And then there was his reaction to music. Well, one song in particular. Mac had accompanied Jack back to apartment to check the mail and do a few other chores. Jack, without thinking, had turned on the radio as he entered. At first, Mac was fine, until the song Fade to Black by Metallica came on. The first sign anything was wrong was the way he began to tremble. Mac tried to ignore, not wanting to draw Jack’s attention. But as the song continued to play, his symptoms got worse. His heart rate picked up, beating so hard and fast Mac was certain he’d see it pounding in his chest like some sort of cartoon character. By the time Jack noticed something was wrong, Mac was seated against the wall, dizziness making it impossible to remain on his feet. He kept pulling his shirt away from his throat, desperately trying to make it easier to catch his breath.

“Hey, hey,” Jack said, squatting in front of his panicking partner, but being careful not to touch him. “Take a deep breath for me, kiddo. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but there’s plenty of air.”

Mac took a shallow, shaky breath.

“Good,” Jack praised. “Try again.”

It took a few minutes, but Mac finally had his breathing back under control. He was still a little shaky, but at least his heart didn’t feel like it was going to burst at any moment. With Jack sticking close, but not touching, Mac made his way back to the couch.

“Think you can tell me what happened,” Jack asked.

“That song,” Mac said wearily. “Murdoc would play it as he was hurting me.”

Jack made a mental note to eliminate the song from all of his playlists for the foreseeable future.

* * *

The one impact of Mac’s kidnapping that had been apparent from the beginning was he severe aversion to touch. His appointments with Dr. Ryan were an absolute nightmare, leaving Mac a shaky, sweaty, and if it was a bad day, sobbing mess. Not even Jack, who was the exception to so many of Mac’s idiosyncrasies, could get around this one. As painful as it was for him, Jack made himself refrain from any uninvited physical contact. The only contact Mac could, or would, tolerate without panic was Jack’s hand cupping his cheek, and that only in certain circumstances, usually after Jack helped Mac pull out of a panic attack. It became their new version of a hug. 

Despite his intolerance for physical touch, Mac also couldn’t stand being alone, but he could only tolerate the presence of people he trusted; namely Jack, Bozer, Riley. He could accept Matty, Dr. Ryan or Dr. Amil only so long as one of his pack was present too. He was so grateful his pack was so understanding, making sure at least one of them was in his proximity at all times. Jack all but moved in with him, only going home on occasion to pay bills and make sure the place didn’t seem completely abandoned. After those first few nights, he’d camped out on the couch so he’d be close enough when the nightmares or insomnia wouldn’t let his partner sleep. Both were regular disruptions, and both Mac and Jack were facing some serious sleep deprivation. Then one night they found a way that allowed both of them to get a full night’s sleep.

Ever since Mac’s recovery, Jack had taken to doing a circuit of the yard in Wolf form. Okay, so maybe it was his own trauma response to losing his kid. Regardless, Jack couldn’t get to sleep without performing the ritual. On this particular night, he’d done his patrol and Mac had just let him back in the house. As Jack was headed toward the bathroom to retake human form, Mac stopped him.

“Hey, Jack,” he’d said quietly, almost shyly. Jack noted the hand pressed against his lower abdomen where he knew the scars from Murdoc’s tongue were hidden by his clothes, indicating just how anxious this conversation was making Mac. “You remember how, right after we got back home, you slept on the bed with me, when you were in this form? That was the last decent sleep I can remember. I was thinking, could we…? I mean, if it wouldn’t bother you, maybe you could stay in wolf form and come sleep on my bed. With me?”

Jack gave him a doggy smile and led the way to Mac’s room. As they settled on the bed, instead of trying to put distance between himself and Jack, Mac snuggled right up next to him. He buried his nose and his hands his brother’s fur, and for the first time in weeks, he slept soundly through the whole night. From then on out, that’s how they slept every night. It didn’t always prevent the nightmares, but it did make them easier to face and recover from.

At the end of the month Dr. Ryan had written them out for, Mac and Jack were both physically ready to return to work, but emotionally was another matter. Although sleeping better, both men were still plagued by fatigue. It didn’t take a degree to figure that probably was a result of the hypervigilance Mac and, by extension, Jack were both experiencing. Mac was still experiencing flashbacks periodically, and his ability to concentrate was shot. They discovered Jack wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended when he experienced a flashback of his own. 

Jack had run home to check his mail and check on his apartment. When he got back, Mac was nowhere to be found, and he wasn’t answering his phone, having left it on silent on his nightstand. Ten minutes later Bozer and Mac had walked in on Jack lost to the world. His eyes weren’t focused, and he was nearly hyperventilating. From what little they could get out of him, it was clear he was convinced Mac was once again missing. Mac sent Bozer out of the room, and spent the next 20 minutes trying to talk his Overwatch back to the present. When Jack had finally come back to the here and now, he was physically and emotionally worn out. Mac had wanted nothing more than to give him a hug, but even the thought of that much contact made him break out in a sweat. Jack had found a perfect solution for both of them by Changing to his four-footed form, and then he and Mac had cuddled on the couch for the rest of the evening.

Just dealing with the effects of Mac and Jack’s trauma, as well as Riley and Bozer’s, would have been enough for anyone, but life decided to throw the pack another curve ball. While Mac and Jack were still out of rotation, Bozer and Riley still had various responsibilities to fulfill, which led to a new level of weird entering their lives. Jack had gone to pick up some groceries leaving Mac with Bozer at the house. Bozer was in the process of sketching out ideas for a fellow agent’s upcoming undercover disguise, and so had been happy to volunteer as Mac’s on duty companion. 

Mac had been out in the garage tinkering with his bike, and had come into the kitchen to get something to drink. He was met with a tall, muscular black man he’d never seen before in his life. The intruder was standing at the sink, back to Mac. Oddly, he made no move to turn around, though he must have heard Mac enter the room. Yet even as Mac’s eyes identified him as a stranger, and his mind was threatening to panic, his nose was telling him it was Bozer standing in front of him. The conflict between what his senses were telling him froze him in place in a combination of alarm and curiosity. There was no telling how long he might have continued to stand there if Jack hadn’t walked in.

Upon seeing the stranger standing in the kitchen, Jack immediately dropped the grocery bags, pulled his weapon, and swept Mac protectively behind him.

“Hands up,” he ordered, gun pointed at the unknown figure.

The man dropped the glass he’d been drinking from and whirled around in surprise.

“Jack, what are you doing,” he yelped. “It’s me. Bozer. You’re having another flashback aren’t you?”

By now, Jack’s sense of smell had caught up with him, and while the face and voice were wrong, the scent coming off the man was all Bozer. Still, Jack wasn’t taking any chances.

“Hey man, I don’t know who you are, but you sure aren’t Bozer,” Jack said. “He’s about 6 inches shorter and about 30 pounds lighter. Now why don’t you tell me who you really are and what you’re doing here. Where is Bozer?”

“Jack,” the man protested, “it’s me! Why are you acting like this? Mac, help a brother out here.”

“Look, I don’t know who you are,” Mac said from behind Jack. “I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

The stranger sighed in dismay. “If I’m not Bozer, then how could I know about those homemade stink bombs you snuck to school in the eighth grade and set off in the girl’s locker room after Sally Brule and her cheerleader cronies stole my clothes during gym? You waited until they were all dressed and then set them off so they’d smell for the rest of the day. Best of all, they all thought Brock Winters did it.”

Jack looked at Mac, who nodded in wide-eyed acknowledgement. No one but the two of them had ever known the truth about that little incident.

“Sorry, dude,” Jack apologized, hitting the safety on his gun and returning it to its holster. “But have you seen yourself recently?”

“What are you talking about,” Bozer asked.

“Go take a look,” Mac suggested. Bozer headed down the hall to the bathroom; moments later a loud shriek sounded through the house. Bozer came barreling back into the kitchen.

“What happened to me,” he cried. 

“Calm down,” Mac commanded. “Let’s stop and think about this. You looked like you just a little while ago. What changed? What were you doing in the last half an hour or so?”

“Matty has me working up a disguise for Agent Campbell. He’s going undercover next month, and is going to need a full-face prosthetic. I was working on some ideas and sketching a few things out. I got thirsty and came out to get a something to drink.”

“Hey, Boze, isn’t Agent Campbell the guy on Miller’s team? The one that’s about 6 inches taller and 30 lbs. heavier than you,” Mac asked. A realization seemed to hit Bozer.

“Give me a second,” he told his teammates. He disappeared into his room, only to return a moment later with a pencil sketch in his hand. The face in the sketch matched the one they were looking at.

“How did this happen? And how can I get my face back?” As if the mere thought made it happen, the image of the taller man disappeared, and Bozer, looking as he had all morning, appeared in his place.

“Okay,” Jack drawled. “Not expecting that. I think this necessitates a call to Matty at the very least, maybe even a visit to Dr. Ryan. Bozer may be good at what he does, but he’s never been _that_ good.”

* * *

“It’s called a glamour,” Dr. Ryan explained to the collected group of Mac, Jack, Riley, Bozer, and Matty. “And one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

It had taken a little effort, but Bozer had been able to reproduce the altered image for Dr. Ryan to observe and catalogue. 

“Glamouring is a very rare ability,” Dr. Ryan continued. “Usually, at most, the individuals I have met have been able to do small things, like alter their eye color, maybe adjust the appearance of their nose or teeth. I have never seen a full-body glamour that could not only made the individual look taller and bigger, but changed the sound of their voice as well.”

“The only thing it didn’t change was his scent,” Mac confided. “That was really throwing me off. My eyes and ears were saying ‘stranger,’ but my nose was identifying Bozer.”

“Same here,” Jack said.

“While I can think of a number of ways this could work in our favor,” Matty contributed, “I want to explore just what this means before we try it under field conditions. We’ll just add Bozer to my Firebird list.”

“Firebird list,” Riley asked.

“The Firebird is supposed to be a mythical bird no one has seen in generations,” Matty explained. “Like the over a dozen agents and employees I now have exhibiting abilities or ‘alternate identities’ we’ve always believed to be mythical. Right now I’m doing my best to keep the identities of my Firebirds secret from Oversight as best as possible. Given their treatment of Jack, I don’t trust them with other, more vulnerable, personnel. I’m not going to have my people hurt or abused because they have outside the normal abilities.”

“So what do you want me to do about this new…talent,” Bozer asked.

“Don’t mention it outside of this section of Medical unless you are at home,” Matty said. “Keep to your normal routine and tasks, but feel free to experiment at home. Anything new or interesting pops up, just give me the heads up with a message that you have something new for the Byrd job. I’ll know what it means and figure out a way to meet up in a safe place with you. If, for some reason anyone asks, the Byrd job is simply us working to stockpile some basic prosthetics and cover identities for future use, so it’s an ongoing thing. Just be careful. This is going to sound paranoid, even for the director of a secret organization, but, outside this pack, I’m truly not sure who we can trust anymore.”


	10. Break to Mend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Warning: this chapter deals with the subject of rape and its emotional aftermath. Although it does not go into explicit detail, it does give some description. One character uses demeaning language toward himself. If you want to avoid that section, skip the section between the +++ marks. If you have read the cut scene, you know the details of what is discussed in this chapter.

Ten weeks after his rescue, Mac was finally allowed to return to work. Sort of. He was allowed back in the lab, but was still restricted from field work. He refused to take the psych eval that would recertify him, and since his one breakdown with Jack, he hadn’t talked about his experience again. Jack, on the other hand, had recertified as soon as he was permitted, with the caveat that he not be sent out until Mac was ready to go with him. As he told Matty, if Mac decided he wanted to spend the rest of his days in the safety of the lab, Jack would stay in house with him. He could take over as head of security and train the TAC teams full-time.

The psych eval wasn’t the only thing Mac was avoiding. He still hadn’t gone through a complete Change. His one and only attempt had been an unqualified disaster. Mac, being Mac, had ignored Dr. Ryan’s recommendation and attempted to Change before all of Murdoc’s venom was gone from his system. To say it didn’t go right was an understatement, and it almost resulted in another hospital stay for the stubborn blond. Since then, he had refused to even try, no matter how much Dr. Ryan assured him it would now be safe to do so. Jack, knowing some of what he’d faced at his kidnapper’s hands, and knowing how stubborn the kid could be when pushed, had refused to press him on the subject.

“Mac has been hurt in a lot of ways here lately,” he told Matty when she approached him about it. “I’m sure you got a report from Medical after we got him back, so you have some idea what was done to him. I won’t betray his confidences, but let’s just say his control over what was done to his body was infringed upon and taken from him. Besides, Faoladh aren’t moon-called, and can go months or years without Changing. If and when mac Mac chooses to Change is up to him. If he chooses to never Change, I will support that decision. I did what I did to save his life, not because I wanted him to be a Wolf, and I’ll never regret it.”

So they proceeded along like that. The search for Brian Connelly’s “Maeve” was still underway, but with little luck. While Maeve wasn’t a common name, and should have made it easier to locate her, it seemed there were no Maeve’s connected to the scientific world anywhere. Meanwhile the labs were still trying to determine exactly what, if anything, the Saoirse water had to do with everything that was going on. Matty had tried to convince the FDA to issue a recall on the water, but without definitive proof that it was dangerous, they had refused. 

On the home front, Bozer was gaining greater and greater control over his gift of glamour. He had discovered he could extend his glamour to others, though it worked best with people he knew and was familiar with. Additionally, if created the right way, his masks and other prosthetics carried a bit of his glamour ability in them, making them that much more realistic and believable. It was an invaluable skill for an up-and-coming secret agent.

Riley’s own unique ability might never have been made obvious if Murdoc hadn’t decided he wasn’t done tormenting Mac. The day began innocuously enough. As had become his usual, Mac was in his lab at the Foundation. He had no specific assignment to work on; Matty basically gave him all the odds and ends he could want, from outdated or broken equipment, to leftover parts from other projects. From there, he was free to build and improvise to his heart’s content. His “tinkering” had already paid dividends in several ideas for updates to gear that had become standard for all field agents. If he was one of the few individuals with a private lab he didn’t have to share with anyone, no one begrudged him the space. Calling his lab organized chaos was being generous, especially if he was in the middle of a project.

On that particular day, Mac was experimenting with creating a mousebot that could be used for field reconnaissance and surveillance. He was elbow deep in gears, wheels, and sensors when his laptop chimed, indicating he had a new email. Mac ignored it. If it was something he needed to know **now** , Matty would text him, or Jack would come get him. Since it was neither, Mac just kept working, figuring he’d take a look at it when he stopped for lunch; if he stopped for lunch. Mac was still working in contented quiet fifteen minutes later when Bozer came tearing into his lab, eyes wide with near panic.

“Have you looked at your email,” he asked Mac without preamble.

Mac gave him a quizzical look. “Uh, no,” he said. “I’ve been the middle of a project.”

“Good,” Bozer proclaimed as he made a beeline for Mac’s computer. “You stay right over there. I just need to do one little thing and—”

“Bozer,” Mac said sternly. “What’s going on? Why are you so worried about whether I’ve looked at my email or not? Did you send me something embarrassing by mistake again?”

Bozer was saved from answering by Jack’s arrival.

“He hasn’t seen it yet,” Bozer announced as Jack came tearing into the room. “I’m about to delete it.”

“Bozer, Jack, what is going on,” Mac demanded. “Just what is it you don’t want me to see?”

Jack took a bracing breath and looked him dead in the eyes. “Mac, I have sworn never to lie to you, homey, and if you really want to know I’ll tell you. But I am begging you to let this go. Please, please, please don’t make us show this to you.” 

The anguish in his partner’s eyes was almost enough to convince Mac to let the matter go. But the fact both Jack and Bozer had been panicked enough to come check on him in person, and Bozer’s relief that he hadn’t already been exposed to whatever was in that email suggested this wasn’t something he could afford to remain ignorant about.

“Jack, I know you’re just trying to protect me, and I appreciate it. I really do,” Mac said. “But no matter how bad this is, I think I need to see it.”

Jack just nodded his head, as if expecting that answer, and he told Bozer, “Go ahead. Show him.”

+++

Mac came to stand behind his best friend, looking over his shoulder at the computer screen. Bozer opened the email program and clicked on a message labeled “Urgent!”. It took Mac a very long moment to realize just what he was seeing, but once he did it sent him racing to the corner, where he threw up everything he’d eaten that morning into the trash can, and then continued to heave.

“He…he…t-took pictures,” Mac gasped in between bouts of vomiting. “He hurt m-m-me, and, and vi-violated me, and then he took pictures. A-a-and n-now, everyone’s seen…seen them; seen me!” He went back to retching into the wastebasket.

Mac was so upset and distraught, he thought nothing of the gentle hand Jack was rubbing on his back in an attempt to sooth him even a little.

“I’m so sorry, Mac,” Bozer said quietly. “And I wish the pictures were the worst of it.”

Mac lifted red-rimmed eyes to look at him. “What do you mean that’s not the worst of it,” he said, voice wrecked by both emotion and his violent heaving.

“There were several videos attached, in addition to the photos,” Jack told him softly. “And no; no matter what you are NOT watching any of them. Bozer beat me down here because I was too busy getting sick from the small segment I saw.”

“Jack,” Mac protested, but Jack held firm.

“I will tell you the contents, though I wish you’d let it go. But you aren’t watching those videos,” Jack said. “You don’t need to see that. And I want you to remember one thing first; this doesn’t change anything between us. Okay? Nothing in those videos ever could or will change what I feel for you. Besides, you already told me about this part. Unfortunately, I now have the actual audio-visuals to fully flesh out my nightmares.”

“Just tell me,” Mac implored.

“You told me about what Murdoc did to you, and how he forced you to….participate,” Jack said, visibly fighting to keep his emotions in check. “That he made you ask him to hurt you. Well, he recorded it.”

It took a long moment for Jack’s words to fully register, but as soon as they did, Mac went racing back to the waste basket, though after his first round he had nothing more to bring up. Instead, painful dry heaves shook his body, and snot and tears ran down his face. Bozer moved to go to his side, but Jack motioned for him to stay back. Mac had already revealed some of this information to him, so he’d probably be more willing to talk to Jack now. He certainly wouldn’t want Bozer to see him like this.

Finally exhausted, Mac collapsed on the floor. For the first time in months, he not only allowed Jack to wrap his arms around him, he sought it out. Leaning against his Overwatch, his hands went unconsciously to the puncture scars on his belly, rubbing and massaging the covered marks even as he finally admitted the truth of what had happened to him.

“He raped me, Jack. It may have started with his tongue and not his dick, though he did that too. He forced a part of his body inside mine, without consent or…or permission, and he enjoyed it. He got off on it. Literally and figuratively. He used me for his sexual gratification, and he made me, coerced me, into saying I wanted it, into begging him to hurt me. He had his tongue and his hands in and all over my body, and made me respond in ways I didn’t want to. There was no corner, crevice, or orifice he didn’t touch or violate or penetrate in some way. It hurt, Jack. And not just when he penetrated my body. He gave me something that made my skin burn like it had been scalded, and then he touched every inch of my body, inside and out. He wasn’t human, anymore, Jack. And his…his tongue; it wasn’t natural. It was longer than any tongue has any right to be. And the way it could move.” Mac shuddered and gagged a little more. 

Jack hugged him closer. “Go on, kid. Let it out,” he encouraged. “Don’t keep this nightmare to yourself any longer. You don’t have to face it alone anymore.”

Mac haltingly described his horror at the unnatural organ, at having it forced down his throat, and through skin and muscle of his shoulder and his belly, deep into his body, at being able to feel it moving inside his body like some sort of perverted snake, touching his internal organs in a way nothing ever should. As best he could, he put into words his disgust and horror at being used, the pain he felt as Murdoc had used his oversized, inhuman body to rape him. He gagged and stuttered as he described Murdoc’s delight and pleasure in using him in whatever twisted way he could devise.

“He made me scream and cry. He did things to me, made me do things to myself I can’t think about without getting sick. He forced me say I wanted those things, and then than…thank him for doing them to me. Day after day he kept me chained to his bed with a collar around my throat like an animal, just so he could hurt me and use me. He kept a box of…of things he would use on me, or make me use on myself. In the end, he didn’t even have to force me. He got every response he wanted from me, and now I find out he recorded it. Now the whole world will be able to see too.”

“Just what is it you think they are going to see,” Jack asked gently.

“Murdoc’s whore,” Mac spat. “A willing, pathetic victim to his depravity.”

“That may be what the perverts and freaks see,” Jack admitted. “But anyone with a heart or a conscience is going to see what I see: a survivor.”

“Victim, survivor, who cares what you call me,” Mac said bleakly. “They mean the same thing.”

“Not quite,” Jack argued. “Hey, listen to me. Now, not everyone will see it this way, but I’d much rather be seen as a survivor than a victim. The way I see it, a victim is passive, powerless; at the mercy of whatever someone else wanted to do to them. A victim had something horrible happen, and they just happened to live through it. But being a survivor indicates you took some sort of action. If you survived something, you took the situation in and _did_ something that got you through it, even if all you did was choose to keep breathing. The survivor lives because, however small it may have been, he or she chose to act. You survived what Murdock did to you because of the choices you made.”

“I let him have his way with me,” Mac shouted, pulling away from Jack. “I played along with his sick little scenarios. He didn’t put that repulsive collar around my neck; I did. I responded to some of what he did, Jack. He wasn’t the only to get off; he made sure I did too. Repeatedly. No matter what my brain was saying, my body responded to what he was doing.” Mac’s face went red as he quietly said, “Some of it felt good. I didn’t want to like it, but my body did anyway. In the end, I gave up. I was so desperate, so tired of hurting, he didn’t have to force me to beg. I convinced myself I _needed_ him to touch me, to use me. I couldn’t see any other way, so I gave him everything he wanted. Was it really rape if I responded to what he did to me, if I begged him, if I wanted it?”

“You said it yourself; you were tired, and hurting, and couldn’t find any other alternative. You didn’t agree to his attention because you wanted it, no matter how your body reacted; you were just trying to get through. You made the choice, abominable as it may have been, to do what you had to survive. Coerced consent isn’t consent at all. And what was your other option,” Jack asked. “What would he have done if you hadn’t gone along with his sick game?”

“He’d have drugged me until I couldn’t see straight and done it anyway,” Mac admitted. “That was always his fall back threat. I either cooperated of my own free will, or he’d give me the drugs that would make me cooperate. Since I’d already lost control of my body, I wasn’t going to lose control of my mind as well.”

“So your choice was to let him assault while your mind was fully your own, or to let him drug to the gills, essentially stealing your mind, and take advantage of you anyway,” Jack said. “He was going to get what he wanted whatever you decided. You chose to stay you. I think it took guts to face all _that_ without any pharmaceutical assistance. I’d say that took a hell of a lot of guts. Not everyone could have done it. I know a lot of people who would’ve taken the drugs just to escape, even for a little while. I’m damn proud of you, kid.”

Mac gave Jack a dark look. “You shouldn’t be. I don’t deserve it. At times I wished I’d taken that stupid drug. When he was hurting me, and I couldn’t even close my eyes, I wished for that kind of oblivion. Instead, I gave in to him. I broke. I stopped fighting and let him have everything he wanted. You shouldn’t even want to touch me. I don’t know how you can even stand to be near me or even look at me. So don’t keep saying you’re proud of me!”

“Why not?” 

Mack huffed at Jack’s even, unflappable tone. “I’m dirty, Jack. Tainted in a way nothing will ever be able to remedy. I feel disgusting, like I’ll never be clean again. You know what he did, what I let him do. I can still feel his hands on me. I feel all the things he did to me. I have dreams of some of the things he forced me to do, and I wake up with my body responding to it, and I just want to crawl into a hole and disappear forever. I’ll carry his marks all over my body for the rest of my life, because the scars he gave me will never fade. Why can’t you recognize that and reject me already? Stop trying to convince me you could be proud of me in any way!”

+++

“I’m not going to tell you how to feel,” Jack told him. “You have every right to feel used and disgusted by what he did to you. How you feel about what was done to you is up to you to determine, and you feel how you feel. So if you really can’t stand to have me touching you because it makes you uncomfortable, or brings back bad memories, or whatever the reason may be, I will understand, and I will do my best to give you what you need. But by the same token, you don’t get to decide how I feel. I’m not disgusted by what you did to save yourself, and I will never reject. But most of all, I am most certainly proud of you for surviving, regardless of the circumstances.”

The look Mac gave Jack was so wistful Jack choked up a little. “You really mean that” Mac asked.

“Damn right I do! Hoss, I will always be proud of you,” Jack said matter-of-factly, if a little teary-eyed. “I don’t care what you had to do to survive, I’m just glad you did. All of us are: me, Bozer, Riley and Matty. What that sick son-of-a-bitch did to you was just that: what _he_ did. He’s an evil psycho who does sick, evil, psycho things to innocent people. What you did was stay alive. You say you broke; I say you may have come out a bruised and a little bent, but you’re alive. That’s the only outcome I care about. I really don’t care what you had to do to accomplish that. Now, I’m going to come right out and say this, because you need to hear it. I love you, Mac. Nothing will ever change that. I don’t care what he did to you, or what he made you do. I don’t care how many times, or in what perverted ways he made you do it, or even if he made some of it feel good. And I certainly don’t care that he recorded, or even if the whole world has seen it. Even if every creep and psycho in the book had been allowed a piece of you, I would still feel the same. I love every kink, lump, bump, and crazy part of you; no psycho stalker/rapist will ever be able to change that.”

Mac flushed again, but Jack could tell he was pleased.

“Thanks Jack.”

* * *

By the time Matty and Riley had joined the three guys in Mac’ lab, Mac was cleaned up and the waste basket had been cleared out of the room. Mac was still sitting on the floor, but he had Jack and Bozer on each side, Jack’s arm around his shoulders and Bozer pressed close to his side, the closest he’d let anyone since his return.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but the entire facility received a copy of that email in one form or another,” Matty informed Mac. “Which is disturbing on more levels than I care to think about. Murdoc shouldn’t have had that kind of access or information.”

“So our mystery insider is at it again. First those indenture papers they tried to trick Jack into signing, then that ‘disciplinary action’ they put him through, and now this,” Mac said, shivering slightly. “The only way Murdoc couldn’t have gotten everyone’s email address is if someone on the inside provided them to him. Are you anywhere closer to figuring out who it could be?”

As the conversation followed that line of thought for a moment, Riley took the opportunity to look Mac over. He looked pretty rough, she had to admit. His eyes were still red-rimmed, and there was a tension to his body that had only recently started to fade. He was, surprisingly, leaning against Jack, but his hand was cradled against his stomach in that now familiar self-protective gesture. She hated something like this was happening to someone she loved like a brother. It disgusted her that, more than likely, perverts across the globe were accessing those repulsive videos, watching her friend be hurt and violated again and again, participating in his victimization time after time. Imagining what _they_ would like to do to him. In her mind’s eye she could almost see it. The glow of those files, all across the globe, like lights on some sort of sick, twisted Christmas tree, saved on servers and phones, tablets and computers, all waiting to be accessed for someone’s sick pleasure. With a burst of anger, Riley imagined all those lights going out, gone for good.

She was pulled from her thoughts by Bozer’s startled exclamation.

“Hey, what just happened?”

Everyone turned to look at him where he had moved to once more sit in front of Mac’s computer.

“Bozer,” Matty asked, the inquiry clear in her tone.

“The screen just flickered, and when I got over here, the files for the videos and the pictures had just…disappeared,” Bozer said. “I hadn’t deleted the email yet because we were too busy taking care of Mac. I was going to do it now that things have settled down, but the files are already gone.”

“Maybe you deleted it earlier without thinking about it,” Jack suggested. “I’ve done that before, especially if something else is going on around me.”

“Nope,” Bozer said. “You can look for yourself. The email is still pulled up, but the links for the photos and the video are gone.”

“Let me see,” Riley said, taking Bozer’s place in front of the computer. She ran several different scans, but each one came up clean. The files weren’t just deleted, they were gone completely in a way that should have been impossible. A quick call to the head of IT reveled it wasn’t just Mac’s computer; the files had disappeared from **all** the computers in the building. Just like with Mac’s computer, the files weren’t just deleted, but completely, irretrievably, unexplainably gone. Riley felt a suspicion begin to formulate in her mind, but she wanted to double check just to be sure.

“Let me check something really quick,” she told the others, pulling out her own laptop rig. It took several minutes to access the sublevels of the web she needed. After that, it was only a short time before she found the proof she was looking for. The video and photographs were gone like they had never existed. But there was plenty of chatter from angry “clients” demanding to know what had happened to their newest entertainment. It seemed, however, no one knew where the original came from, and there were no re-uploads making their way back online, despite repeated demands.

“Guys,” Riley said slowly after making her way out of the darkweb. “I think I can explain what happened to those files.”


	11. Together in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter discusses a sexual assault of a female character. It is not graphic, but it is talked about.

Technopathy was ultimately the term settled on to describe Riley’s ability to connect mentally to technology. Like the more familiar abilities, empathy and telepathy, Riley’s technopathy took a lot of discipline and concentration in order to make it work. Dr. Ryan hypothesized that the relative ease with which she had located and destroyed those media files relating to Mac was due to her elevated emotional state, and her existing connection to Mac. Her intense desire to protect him from further hurt had let her seemingly link to every copy of those files, and wipe them from existence. It was no so subtly hoped that she might even have eliminated the originals, especially since no attempt to re-upload them had been made.

In the days following the emotional assault from Murdoc’s emails, Mac had faced the prospect of going back in to work with extreme trepidation. To his utter relief, however, no one around the Foundation acted like anything out of the ordinary had happened. Not one pitying glance or lewd stare was cast his way. To all intents and purposes, life went on like normal. The only change Mac could observe came in the form of his treatment by some of the older, more seasoned operatives. Although he was an experienced agent and field operative, many of the older agents had previously mostly just tolerated him, rather like a bright but precocious toddler. Mac now found himself treated with a new amount of respect. Even the TAC teams started treating him more like a comrade rather than one of the geeks. The change freaked Mac out a little, and he finally asked Jack about it.

“Like me, a lot of my guys, as well as the operatives we pulled from other agencies, were trained to deal with the possibility of facing rape or other sexual assault,” Jack explained. “More than one of them have lived through it themselves. They, better than anyone, can understand the physical and emotional damage an experience like that can cause. They know, first-hand, it can be a struggle to come back from something like that. Several of them knows a buddy or teammate who lost that fight, and didn’t recover. So yeah, you’ve impressed the hell out of them.”

While it embarrassed Mac to know his ordeal had garnered him such unsought admiration, it was an unforeseen conversation he had with a most unexpected person that impacted him the most.

Two days after the “email thing,” as Mac called it in his head, Jill approached him and quietly asked if they could talk privately.

“I just wanted to say, what you went through doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you,” she said in a rush, and without preamble once they reached the privacy of his lab.

“Okay,” Mac said, uncertain where she was going with this, and not really comfortable discussing it with her.

“I was raped in college,” she blurted out, face flushing slightly as she spoke. Still, she pressed on. “As you can imagine, I don’t talk about it much, but I thought it might help you to know someone you’re a little more familiar with has been where you’re at.”

“I’m sorry,” Mac said hesitantly, not really certain what to say.

“I’ve…let’s say healed from the experience,” Jill said matter-of-factly, sounding a little surer of herself. “Experiences like that, you don’t really get over, because they leave scars. You just learn how to live with them. Eventually they heal over, but they never really go away completely. And, on occasion, something will hit those scars just right and bring back the pain.”

“I don’t mean to pry, so feel free to tell me to mind my own business,” Mac said, “but…”

Jill gave him a small, understanding smile.

“I don’t mind telling you at least the basics,” she said. “A friend dragged me to a party off campus, then disappeared with her boyfriend of the hour. It wasn’t my kind of scene, so I was trying to make my escape, when someone put a spiked drink in my hand. I was naïve and a little anxious, so I drank it without thinking. The little punk who gave it to me, along with two of his buddies, then ‘offered’ to take me back to my dorm room. I don’t actually remember much about the assault itself. I wasn’t even really sure what had happened, until the pictures and the video started showing up all over campus.”

Mac winced; he knew how that felt. “What did you do,” he asked.

“At first, I just wanted to hide away and never show my face again,” Jill admitted. “But one of my professors came to me. He reminded me that what they had done said more about them than it did about me. He and his wife helped walk me through the legal process. They were both former criminalists from one of the crime labs in Nevada, so they helped me get the evidence the cops needed to arrest and convict my attackers.”

“Sound like good people,” Mac said. “Kind of like Jack. But how did you handle all the after…stuff? The emotional stuff, I mean.”

“Sara, the wife, helped me find a really good therapist,” Jill said. “She helped me see there was no shame in needing professional assistance. She reminded me that asking for help is a kind of courage the weak never achieve. Since I was tired of feeling cowardly and pathetic, I took the plunge. I’m pretty sure it saved my life. I had put on a brave face, but I was in a really bad place emotionally, even after the conviction. Therapy and counseling helped me put myself back together.”

Mac took a minute to consider what she was saying.

“Even if I was willing to seek counseling, I’m not sure where to even begin. It’s not like I can go to any old service, but I can’t see going to the in-house therapist either.”

Jill reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small, plain business card. She handed it to him.

“You might try starting here,” she said. “I can personally recommend her. I know several people from Phoenix that see her on a regular basis. She’s been vetted by the agency, _and_ she’s clued in on the whole supernatural thing. Everyone in her practice is, so if she’s not the right fit for you, she can help you find someone who is. Just, don’t let this eat you up, Mac. Don’t let a pathetic little worm like Murdoc win.”

* * *

After reflecting on everything Jill had revealed, Mac decided to give therapy a try. Without mentioning anything to the rest of his pack, Mac called and made the appointment. He liked the therapist Jill had originally suggested well enough, but it was clear from their first meeting they weren’t a good match. Following her recommendation, Mac had a follow up with a different counselor. Morgan, as the man preferred to be called, had a very interesting background. He had spent some time as a criminal behaviorist for the FBI, before quitting to spend more time with his family, at which time he had decided to go back to school and get a degree in counseling, specializing in trauma. He had lost his father at the age of 10, had experienced sexual abuse himself, and, early in his career, had spent time on the bomb squad in Chicago. Mac was also fairly certain Morgan had a supernatural ability of some sort, but it wasn’t something they discussed. The similarities in their experiences created an unexpected bond between the two men. He had a protective aura about him that reminded Mac of Jack. Morgan might never be pack, but he was someone Mac thought he could trust enough to open up to about his ordeal with Murdock.

As the number of sessions with Morgan increased, it became clear that while Mac could discuss the facts of his captivity, he had much more difficulty distinguishing and processing his emotions. He could give a point by point description of the abuse visited on him, but closed himself off when asked how those even made him feel.

“Mac, you compartmentalize better than anyone I’ve ever met,” Morgan finally told him. “And it’s a great survival strategy. But, my man, it’s not a long-term strategy. We’ve got to find you a healthy way to express those emotions before they find unhealthy ways to express themselves.”

“Well what do you suggest,” Mac snapped, frustration and discomfort making him grumpy.

“I’d suggest a journal, but you don’t seem the journaling type,” Morgan said. “Maybe we need to take a different approach here; one that make the emotions less personal.”

Morgan suggested Mac sit down and talk to his pack about the events that took place for his family while he was gone.

“Everyone around you was affected by this situation, and they each have their own set of emotions from it. Maybe if you discuss what they felt, and may still be feeling, it can help you unlock and understand your own emotions. Perhaps seeing your emotions as a reflection, rather than facing them straight on, will make them less intimidating.”

After thinking about Morgan’s suggestion, Mac realized he’d never really asked Jack, Riley, or Bozer what they had gone through after he was kidnapped. They had all been willing to listen to him, but he had never reciprocated. And as distressing as his experience had been, he knew it had to have been equally bad in its own way for the others. So Mac decided to follow up on the recommendation. Bozer was the easiest, given that the two of them shared the same house. With some careful arranging to ensure the two of them had the morning alone together, Mac approached his oldest friend one Saturday.

“So, Boze, you guys have been great at listening to me, but it was brought to my attention you might need a listening ear,” Mac said, feeling slightly awkward about how best to approach the subject. “I mean, you all have a pretty good idea about what happened to me while I was…gone, but I don’t know what you went through.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Bozer deferred. “You just need to focus on getting yourself back together.”

“This is part of me getting myself back together,” Mac told him. “Morgan pointed out that this experience didn’t just affect me, and that it might help me find some emotional balance to hear about your side of things. He also pointed out that since I tend to compartmentalize my feelings, and processing emotions is difficult for me, it might help to talk to you guys about how you felt and dealt with your emotions during everything.”

“Hey man, whatever you need. That said, I guess the main thing I felt was fear,” Bozer said. “At first, it was fear about the unknown. We didn’t know what had happened to you, and we had no idea who had you. I was terrified of the thought of what they might be doing to you, or that you might be dead. After we found that dead Wolf, and all our leads dried up, I was scared we’d never see you again. At some point, I think grief set in. I’m a little ashamed to say it, but I think I gave up on finding you. I was also angry; I was angry at myself for not doing more to prevent this from happening, angry at you for disappearing, angry at whoever took you, and angry at Jack.”

“Why Jack?” Mac was perplexed. “It wasn’t Jack’s fault I got grabbed.”

“That’s not why was I angry at him,” Bozer confessed. “I was angry because he wasn’t taking care of himself, and then because we found his ‘Wookie life-debt’ is a real thing, and what that meant if we didn’t get you back.”

“What do you mean,” Mac pressed.

Realizing he might have mis-stepped, Bozer tried to redirect the conversation. “I think you’re better off asking Jack about that. I mean, it’s a Wolf thing after all.”

Deciding to table that discussion for later, when he could have it out with Jack, Mac asked, “So how did you deal with it all?”

“The fear I dealt with by staying busy,” Bozer said. “You know me; I stress-cook. I was feeding anyone and everyone I could think of. The grief resolved itself, since you’re not dead. As for the anger, well, I’m still working through that. I’m talking to one of the therapists at the Foundation. I’ve also talked to Jack and Riley, and even Matty when necessary. I just try to channel my anger and frustration into constructive activities.”

* * *

“I spoke with Bozer,” Mac informed Morgan at their next session. “I asked him about his experience when I went missing.”

“And did you learn anything helpful?”

“Bozer said he felt angry and afraid. He helped me recognize one of the things I was feeling, but couldn’t quite identify, was anger.”

“So you’ve been experiencing anger, but not fear,” Morgan asked, tone curious, but not judgmental.

“Sure I was afraid,” Mac admitted. “The thought of dying didn’t scare me. I’ve been there before. But the things Murdoc did to me terrified me in a way I have never experienced. The thought of them still does. As you’re aware, I’m almost…obsessive about self-control, and Murdoc took that away from me. And yeah, that freaked me out. I’m scared he’s going to come back, that he’s going to hurt me again. But I have Jack, and it’s really hard to feel afraid with my Overwatch around. Together, we know how to handle fear; that’s an old, familiar foe. It’s the inexplicable anger I haven’t been able to understand. Talking to Bozer really helped me figure some things out about that.”

“Like what,” Morgan encouraged gently. 

“I finally figured out my who, what/why. The who was pretty easy: Murdoc, obviously, my family, and myself. The what/why is what took a little more thought. With Murdoc, again, it was easy. He hurt me and used my body against me. I didn’t realize until recently I why I was angry with my family. It’s illogical, but I was angry and hurt that they didn’t save me, that they left me at Murdoc’s mercy. I know they were trying, and it hurts them that they couldn’t, but I’m still angry about it. The one I had the hardest time figuring out was the last one. I finally decided that while I was angry at myself for getting angry at my pack, and I was angrier at myself because I felt like I didn’t do enough to save myself. And I was absolute furious because, in the end, I gave in. I felt like I let myself down, and that made me mad.”

“Feeling angry is a natural response to what you went through. So is feeling frustrated with those you love, even if there was nothing they could have done to help. The same with feeling angry with yourself, for being unable to stop or prevent the abuse. Anger, frustration, and hurt are all normal. Your self-autonomy and control over your body were both impinged upon and stolen from you. Helplessness often creates feelings of hurt and anger.”

“So how can I stop? It’s not like it was any of our faults I was kidnapped.”

“Just like it wasn’t your fault you couldn’t get away,” Morgan reminded him. “There are a number of techniques you can use to get past the anger. As for being mad about giving in to your captor’s demands; you did exactly right.”

“You’re saying it was a good thing I willingly let him use me,” Mac spluttered. “How can that be?”

“Because it kept you alive,” Morgan said. “One thing I learned while working as a profiler; sometimes the best thing a victim can do is let their abuser treat them like a victim. If you’re giving them what they want, it can entice them to keep you around longer. Staying alive as long as possible is what, hopefully, leads to a rescue.”

“I only got rescued because Murdoc called in our location.”

“And you were still alive because you’d kept him satisfied enough he didn’t just kill you and move on. It probably doesn’t seem like it right now, but you really did make the right choice.”

“That doesn’t stop me from being mad at myself for it.”

“That’s okay. We’ll work on it. You’re headed in the right direction. And good job on talking to your friend, Mac; that’s a great first step.”

* * *

After speaking with Bozer, talking with Riley was less intimidating, though no less difficult. This time, arranging the opportunity to speak one-on-one took a bit more work. However, just the mention that his counselor had recommended it netted Jack’s assistance in arranging the time. So, after a family dinner mid-week, Jack and Bozer surreptitiously left the pair out on the back porch under the guise of fetching the team ice cream for dessert.

As before, Mac wasn’t quite sure how to ask what he needed to, so he just dove right in.

“So, Riley, Morgan suggested I talk to you guys about what you went through when I went missing. He says it can help me gain some insight into my own emotions.”

Thankfully, Bozer had already spread the word, so Riley wasn’t completely blindsided by the almost question.

“I think most of us felt the same way when it first happened,” she said. “Shocked, then angry, then afraid. But when I think about those weeks, the strongest thing I remember feeling was useless. You had disappeared from a public area; I should have been able to find something on the traffic cams or security cameras. But no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find anything. Even once Jack got that message that led us to the first creep’s body, I still couldn’t get anything valuable from it. Murdoc used the computer from the house to send the text message, so the trail went cold right there. And then there was the whole thing with Jack. Nothing I did seemed to help with that either.”

“Yeah, Bozer mentioned the Jack thing. What was that exactly?”

“You’ll have to take that up with Jack,” Riley said.

“Bozer said the same thing,” Mac commented. “As for the rest, from what I heard, you were tearing into any leads the police came up with deeper and more thoroughly than they ever could.”

“And all for nothing,” Riley said. “No matter where I looked, or how deep I dug, I couldn’t find anything to help us find you.”

“We were dealing with Murdoc, Riles,” Mac reminded her. “The man is like a ghost when it comes to avoiding detection. You only found me because he wanted me to be found.” Mac shuddered as he said the words, half-remembered recollection surfacing. “I think he even considered leaving me there to die and never be found. The only reason he made contact was to torment Jack. I know it’s hard, but try to keep that in mind. Murdoc’s had enough victories this round; don’t keep giving him this one.”

* * *

“I talked to Riley this time,” Mac informed Morgan a few days later. “She told me how powerless and useless she felt since her usual talents didn’t help them find me.”

“And what about you,” Morgan asked.

“I felt pretty powerless, too. I can usually improvise my way out of virtually any situation, but this time I couldn’t. And we’ve talked previously how much I hate feeling out of control. But Murdoc was too well prepared. Even my best weapon, my mind, was too distracted by the physical concerns of what was being done to me to be able to think about anything beyond that.”

“Which was exactly your captor intended,” Morgan pointed out. “He created a power imbalance specifically in order to make you feel powerless and helpless. He could only achieve fulfillment by usurping control over your body, and making you feel like a victim.”

“Jack told me he sees the difference between a victim and a survivor is the decision to act. Even if it’s the smallest choice, a survivor does something to help keep himself alive.”

“And do you agree with him?”

“I didn’t at first. I couldn’t see how I had any real choice in what happened to me. Murdoc was going to molest me regardless of what I did.”

“Have you changed your mind,” Morgan asked, ignoring for now Mac’s continued inability, or unwillingness, to call what Murdoc did to him rape.

“I’m beginning to, especially after our last talk. I told you my greatest weapon is my mind, my ability to think. When Murdoc assaulted me that first time, he told me he was going to make me beg him to do it. I had to choose whether I was going to face it drugged or not. I chose no drugs, preferring to maintain control of my mind. No matter what he did to me, I faced it as myself.”

“And how did that make a difference,” Morgan asked.

“Murdoc could make me say the words, but he couldn’t make me mean them,” Mac said with increasing confidence. “He could make my body respond, manipulate my biological responses, but he couldn’t make _me_ want it. He could control my body, use it for his own perverse pleasure, but he couldn’t take control of my mind. He tried to make me his victim, but I made him just one more thing I survived. Like I told Riley, Murdoc has already had enough victories this round; he doesn’t get anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to anyone who recognizes either the professor and his wife Jill mentions, or exactly who Morgan is. I love his character, so I borrowed him for this role.


	12. Give Light and Darkness Disappears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been to therapy, so I am trying to keep a light hand with that element. However, I love Morgan too much to just mention him once. Please excuse any mistakes.

Mac’s time with Morgan was really paying off. He wasn’t quite ready to go back in to the field, but he was feeling emotionally steadier. Of course, he still had good days and bad days. Through it all, Jack was his rock. Whenever things became too overwhelming, or Mac just needed quiet support, Jack was there. Which made the conversation between Mac and Jack, and all that came to light because of it, that much more jarring.

Mac had purposefully put off his talk with Jack. He would admit, he was feeling selfishly self-protective. He knew Jack hadn’t had an easy time while Mac was missing. The older man took his Overwatch and Beta responsibilities very seriously. Losing Mac would have been a deep wound, and while Jack had spoken to the therapist at the Foundation, Mac knew he wouldn’t have genuinely opened about the true depth of his emotions. Jack did his best to protect those around him from everything he could, including his emotions. And the fallout from releasing the emotions associated with all that had gone on had the potential to be unpleasant for all parties involved.

Knowing the coming conversation had the potential to volatile, and maybe emotionally messy, Mac had arranged to have Jack join him at his next meeting with Morgan. The two men had met several times previously, at Mac’s request, and Mac knew Jack was as comfortable around the other man as he was ever going to be with someone in his profession. The fact that Mac trusted Morgan would mean more to Jack than his own personal feelings.

When the day came, the two men purposefully arrived in their own vehicles. They knew that if emotions got too high, having separate rides home would be a necessity. Upon their arrival, they were immediately ushered into Morgan’s office.

“Good morning, Mac, Jack. I’m glad to see you both,” Morgan said. “I think what you’re doing here today is very brave, on both your parts. Now, since this is meant to be a conversation between just the two of you, here is what I propose. I’m going to sit over by the window. I’ll leave you two to your discussion, wherever feels most comfortable for you. As long as you have everything under control, I’ll leave you to it. If at any point you feel you need me just let me know. I’m here to help make this a successful session, or whatever you want to call it. So take all the time you need. I cleared my whole schedule this morning, and I can adjust my afternoon appointments as well. You can take all day if necessary.”

Once everyone had found a comfortable spot, Mac and Jack just kind of sat and stared at each other for a moment.

“So,” Jack said finally said, breaking the awkward silence. “I guess we have some things to discuss, so I guess I’ll start this off. Now, I have something to tell you, and you’re not going to like it. Bozer and Riley both told me they had mentioned to you that I was having some, let’s call it ‘trouble’ while you were missing, but that they hadn’t really gone into any details. I just want to tell you, before you get pissed off that, A, I was planning on telling you about this. I just haven’t been sure how to bring it up. And secondly, I had no idea this had happened until I talked to Sean while you were missing. I didn’t plan for this to happen, no matter how it might seem.”

“You’re making me a little nervous here Jack,” Mac teased. “What could you possibly say that you’re so certain is going to make me angry? Surely it can’t be that bad.”

“All right, here goes,” Jack said. “You know I’ve always said if you go kaboom, I go kaboom? Well, according to Sean, that’s not just a figure of speech anymore.”

“I…I’m not sure I understand,” Mac said. “Surely you’re not saying…”

Jack stayed quiet, waiting for the realization to hit his partner.

Abruptly, Mac went still. With years of experience reading his partner, Jack could tell he was trying to not only process this new information, Mac was also trying not to let his temper get the better of him.

“I think you had better explain,” Mac finally said.

“When you first disappeared, it was mostly situation normal,” Jack said. “I mean, sad as it is to say, it wasn’t like this was the first time you’ve been taken. We know how to rally the troops and how to pace ourselves. I may not like it, especially when I don’t know what you’re going through, but I know the importance of taking care of myself. And I was trying, I swear I was, man, but you know what a missing teammate does to you. Bozer and Riley were making sure I ate, because left to my own devices I wouldn’t. I was bathing and changing clothes, and everything else civilized people do on a daily basis. I even went to see the doc and got a sleep aid, because I wasn’t. The only place I could get any sort of rest was in your room, on your bed. I needed your scent to get any sort of sleep. It didn’t seem to matter what I did, though. I think Matty was about ready to have me admitted to Medical, because no matter what I did, my physical health wasn’t improving at all. Since the regular approaches weren’t working, Matty got to thinking that maybe it was something related to my Wolf, so she called Sean.”

That caught Mac slightly off guard.

“I didn’t realize she was keeping in such close contact with him.”

“Nah, not really,” Jack said. “I talk with him every few weeks or so, but Matty only reached out because she was trying to help me.”

“So what do you talk to him about? I mean, not that you don’t have the right to talk to whoever you want to. I just didn’t know you were that close,” Mac said, curiosity momentarily derailing the original point of the discussion.

“There’s still a lot about being a Faoladh I don’t know,” Jack pointed out. “All the kids in Sean’s family grow up learning the ins and outs of Faoladh culture, customs, and traditions and the like. I’ve had just about a year to learn the essentials. On top of that, he’s the closest thing we have to paranormal expert. With his family’s direct connection to the supernatural world, he knows a lot of stuff about a lot of stuff. In fact, he even has some idea about just what Murdoc has become.”

“You talked to Sean about what _he_ did to me?” The shock, hurt, and betrayal in Mac’s face and voice hit Jack like a blow to the gut.

“Of course not,” Jack protested, hurt. “You know I wouldn’t do that to you. I simply gave him the basic description you provided about what that freak looked like and what he could do, hoping he might give us some insight on what he’s become, and to find out there was anything we needed to now in order to help you.”

“So, what did he say,” Mac asked. Jack was pained to see that hand back at Mac’s lower belly. It was a habit that had slowly started disappearing over the past few weeks as Mac began to heal and regain his balance. That it had shown up again now demonstrated how badly this conversation was affecting Mac.

“He said Murdoc sounds like he’s some version of Fomorian.”

“A what?”

“A Fomorian. According to Sean, the Fomorians were an ancient race of monsters from the sea that once tried to invade what we now call Ireland. Since his family has ties all the way back to those times, he’s fairly confident in his identification. The Fomorians are actually the reason the first Faoladh were created. He told me the Faoladh and the Fomorians are natural enemies, which explains my Wolf’s reaction at that house. I told you he was ready to break free at a moment’s notice as soon as we entered the building.”

Mac sat for a moment and considered the information Jack had just dumped on him. As Mac thought about it, he decided it made an odd, twisted sort of sense. Murdoc was an evil abomination in and of himself; it was no wonder had enough in common with an ancient, old world abomination to become a modern day equivalent. The man truly was a monster in every meaning of the word.

“Okay,” he said, shaking his head to try and clear it, “I still have other questions about that, but we can talk about it later. Right now, let’s get back to your original point. So, you went to Sean because he knows about the Faoladh. Matty approached him because there was something wrong with you, and the conventional approaches weren’t helping. Did he know what was going on?”

“He did. He said it was something he’d heard about, but hadn’t seen. No one has in several generations.”

“And what is _it_?”

“Sean said the ancient Faoladh didn’t have a name for it; they considered to be almost sacred. Essentially, when a subordinate Wolf felt a strong sense of loyalty, devotion, and, I’d add, at least for myself, love for their Alpha, it forged a connection or bond between them. Basically, the lower-level Wolf’s life force, or soul, or whatever you want to call it, becomes tied to the Alpha’s. If anything happens to the Alpha, within a very short amount of time, a few months at most, the subordinate Wolf will fade and pass away too.”

Mac gave Jack an almost appalled look. “That doesn’t make any sense. What good would it do anyone if the alpha’s death took out the Wolve around him?”

“It makes total sense to me,” Jack countered. “If we had never gotten you back from Murdoc, or if you hadn’t survived that last attack, I wouldn’t have wanted to go on.”

“So our lives are tied together now? That doesn’t bother you?”

Jack looked him straight in the eyes. “Mac, our lives have been tied together for a long time now, ever since I opted to stay in the Sandbox with you. I could have gone home and lived a relatively safe life back in Texas, but I chose to stay with you. I followed you to L.A.. I took the job with you at DXS in order to continue watching your back. Shoot, Hoss, I center my whole identity on being your Overwatch. The thought that my life is now literally bound to yours doesn’t scare me; it comforts me. Where you, I go, in life _and_ death. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

* * *

After that emotional bombshell, Jack and Mac both decided they needed a break. Jack stayed on the couch where he pulled out his phone and began to text Riley. Mac retreated to the window where Morgan was sitting.

“I’m guessing you couldn’t help but overhear all that,” Mac commented as he sat down across from him.

“I did,” Morgan acknowledged. “I can only imagine how a revelation like might make you feel.”

“Part of me wants to be pissed off. I mean, how could Jack put that kind of pressure on me. It’s like I now have to live for both of us. How can I do my job, as dangerous as it can be, knowing that if I buy it, I’m taking Jack with me? Is it fair of me to do that to him? Or to Riley? She still needs him, even if she won’t admit it.”

“But that not’s all you’re feeling, is it,” Morgan prompted.

“I’m feeling more than a little confused. I don’t know anyone who loves as fully and completely as Jack does. To know I’m the focal point of that kind of love and loyalty is humbling, and a little bewildering. My own father didn’t love me like that. How can Jack? Why would he?”

“I’m guessing from your answer, you don’t feel you deserve his devotion?”

“No,” Mac answered honestly.

“Is that due to an intrinsic sense of un-worth, or because of what was done to you?”

“Both? After what Murdoc did to me, I certainly don’t feel worthy of that kind of dedication. But it’s more than that. The last person I knew for certain loved me was my mother,” Mac confessed. “My dad, if he ever felt anything for me, hid it really, really well. I guess my grandpa cared, but demonstrations of affection or emotion, overt or otherwise, weren’t his way.”

“What about Bozer and Riley,” Morgan asked. “Surely you know they care.”

“Well, sure they care,” Mac said. “But that’s just friendship. Don’t get me wrong; they’re very important to me, and it would shred my heart if anything ever happened to either of them. But they don’t _need_ me. If I died, they’d be sad, but they’d eventually move on with their lives.”

“And what about Jack,” Morgan asked softly.

“I…I don’t know,” Mac murmured. “I…I know how I feel about him. But I have a hard time believing that what he feels about me is strong enough that he’d rather die than live without me.”

“And just what do you feel for him?”

“I love him,” Mac said plainly. “He’s the best big brother/crazy uncle/ father figure I could have ever asked for. I just truly don’t understand what he gets from our relationship.”

“Ah, homey,” Jack said, startling both men. He’d moved closer to the pair, an undeniable response to the hurt he heard in his kid’s voice. “After all this time, after everything we’ve gone through together, and you still don’t get it. I wish I knew what to do or say to convince you what I feel is the real deal.”

“It’s not you, Jack,” Mac said, looking his friend in the face. “I spent years convinced that I wasn’t worthy, or that there was something wrong with me. With my dad, my grandfather, even the Bozers, it always felt like there was this, I don’t know, distance or…or barrier between them and me. I constantly felt like I fell short. They might have cared about me somewhat, maybe, but it never seemed all that deep or lasting. I continually felt like I was one mistake away from them walking away. And then I met this loud-mouthed, knuckle-dragging, overbearing army grunt of an Overwatch who, once he decided to stick around, seemed to not realize there was ever a barrier there to begin with. After that, I couldn’t get rid of him. I didn’t want to get rid of him. Since then, I’ve just been waiting for you to realize what everyone else just seemed to know. That I am lacking that little something that most other people have that makes them…loveable.”

“Mac, I know, no pun intended here, that you’re still touchy about being touched, and I get it,” Jack said gently. “But if you’re comfortable with it, I would like to give you a hug right now, kid.” He waited patiently as Mac considered the request, and then gave him a small nod. Carefully, but with no hesitation, he approached and wrapped his arms around the younger man.

“I want you to listen to me,” Jack said, cupping the back of Mac’s head and pulling him firmly to his shoulder. “You aren’t lacking anything. I know losing your mom, and then your dad, the way you did left some scars. I can’t speak for your grandfather, since I never met the man, but I have to believe he loved you too, even if he wasn’t good at showing it. I know Bozer and Riley love you too. Bozer wouldn’t hen-peck you the way he does if he didn’t. Riley’s tougher to read; believe me, I know. But she wouldn’t have stuck around through everything if you were _just_ a friend. How do you think she was able to destroy all that crap Murdoc posted so easily? You’re her family, man. As for me; Mac, you are the center of my world, bud. Forget the Faoladh and the Overwatch stuff. I’m just talking Mac and Jack. If you decided this minute you wanted to run away and teach basket weaving to rabbits in Africa, I would follow you without a second thought. Well, no, I’d probably think you were crazy, but I’d still go with you. I’ve chosen you to be a part of my family. You can’t select the family you’re born to, but that’s what makes a chosen family so special. It’s made up only of the people you _want_ in your life. And I want you in _my_ life. Today, tomorrow, and forever.”


	13. Fears Shrink in the Light of Day

After Jack and Mac separated, Mac excused himself to the restroom. Jack knew his kid needed a few minutes to pull himself back together before they tried to move on. While he was out of the room, Morgan took the chance to talk to Jack.

“You handled that really well,” the counselor commented.

“I’ve been looking after that kid for years now,” Jack said. “I usually know what he needs better than he does. The hard part is waiting until he either realizes he needs it, is in a mindset that I can help him figure out he needs it, or is willing to accept my help with whatever _it_ is.”

“It wasn’t just that,” Morgan said. “Too often, the families of my trauma patients want so badly to help and comfort, they impose themselves. They don’t seem to see, or even understand, that someone who has been victimized, especially in the way Mac was, may not be able to take being manhandled or physically comforted. I just really appreciated the way you asked Mac for permission, and then waited for his okay, before you touched him.”

“Jack is the best guardian in the world,” Mac said, rejoining the other two men. “I have never doubted he would never do anything to purposefully hurt me.”

“’Course I wouldn’t,” Jack scoffed.

“Well, gentlemen, I believe you have a conversation to finish,” Morgan said. “So I’ll just return to my corner and leave you two to it.”

“Okay, I’ll get right to the point of why I needed to talk to you,” Mac said once it was just the two of them once more. “Morgan has been helping me work through all my feelings from the kidnapping and after. You know me; I’d rather compartmentalize my emotions rather than face them, but Morgan has helped me see that if I keep trying to do that, I’ll get to the point I won’t be able to contain them anymore. But since I’m not good with emotions, I’ve been talking the with members of the pack about what they experienced while I was missing. Something about hearing about their emotions helps me process my own.”

Jack took a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his face. 

“I’ve already told you I was a mess,” he said, “but I guess you probably need more than that. So here goes.” He sat back and unconsciously wrapped his arms around himself. “I don’t know if you know this, but I was first on scene after we were told you were missing. I walked onto that scene, and the first thing I noticed was the scent of that Wolf. That bastard I failed to scare away had found you and taken you away. As far as emotions go, I was feeling pretty disgusted with myself. The feeling only got worse when we found that poor bastard dead, and you gone.”

Mac placed a hand on Jack’s arm.

“That wasn’t your fault, Jack. The Wolf who grabbed me, he wasn’t right in the head, but I don’t think he actually meant me any harm. He wasn’t even a full Wolf. Someone had dosed him with the same stuff that created that Wolf-creature that attacked you in Ireland. But instead of making him violent, it just increased his paranoia and made him desperate. All he wanted was someone to help him control his Wolf.”

“So how did he latch onto you?”

“From what I could understand from his ramblings, someone convinced him that if he could get me away from you, I would help him.”

“Was it Murdoc?”

“I don’t think so. Murdoc didn’t seem to be aware you’re a Wolf. According to him, Murdoc had been planning on grabbing me anyway; he just took advantage of my first captor to confuse the trail further. Knowing that crackpot, I tend to believe him, at least about this.”

Jack scowled. “Great, so we have a mystery mastermind who turned the wacko Wolf on to you in the first place.”

“My bet is whoever has been working against us from inside Phoenix. No one else would have known about my role as your alpha, and that’s what he wanted me for.”

“Crappy plan,” Jack replied. “It’s not like I would have let him keep you. So what was the point?”

“Well, just because he wasn’t violent with me doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have reacted violently if you had tried to take me away from him. Maybe they were hoping he’d get lucky and take you out, or severely injure you at the very least,” Mac said. “I get the feeling he didn’t get a chance to fight back when Murdoc attacked. That freak most likely bit him to paralyze him, and then tore him apart with those claws, the venom on them ensuring he bled out. By the way, did we every figure out who he was?”

“I don’t remember,” Jack admitted. “He really wasn’t my priority. Be we can check with Matty when we got back to work.”

“I’d like that.”

“Okay, so we covered how I was feeling when you first disappeared,” Jack said. “The self-loathing never really disappeared. But it was eventually overshadowed by fear. Fear that we would never find you, mostly, but also fear for what you might be going through. At one point I dreamed about you. You were begging for my help, but I couldn’t even touch you. That’s when I became convinced we weren’t going to find you alive. By that point, though, I knew about my tie to you, and I found some comfort in knowing that even if we didn’t get you back, we wouldn’t be separated for long.”

“We’ve already talked about how I feel about that, and I’m sure we’ll have further discussions about it in the future, but that’s a matter for another time. But what about when you found me? Riley and Bozer weren’t around until I was in Medical, so they couldn’t give me much. But you were there. You saw, firsthand, the state I was in.”

“I’m sure Murdoc was going for the shock factor,” Jack said. “Between the lighting and the obscene way he had you on display, he wanted to make an impression on whoever was first through the door. Except he didn’t take my mindset into consideration when he arranged that little table.”

“I think you mean tableau,” Mac corrected with a small smile.

“Whatever. You know what I meant. Anyway, he wasn’t taking into consideration that the first thing on my mind when I came through that door was threat assessment. I was looking to see if you were in immediate danger, or if there was a danger present I needed to neutralize before I could get to you. My second thought wasn’t about what state you were in beyond making certain you were still alive. Yeah, I took note that you didn’t have any clothes on, and I knew you wouldn’t like that, but beyond that, I was much more worried by the amount of blood covering you and puddling on the floor.”

“So was it immediately obvious he had, you know…”

“Mac, I know it makes you uncomfortable to acknowledge it, but he raped you. And in a first, I think you’ve accepted the emotional impact of that, but you’re still fighting the mental part for some reason. Now, I’m obviously not a professional, but even I know that if you can’t wrap your mind around that fact, and find a way to accept it as a truth, you’re not going to get better.”

“If it was just the rape, I don’t think it would be affecting me this badly,” Mac said. “I accepted long ago that Murdoc was probably going to at least attempt that at some point. I saw it in his eyes the first time we met. It turned him on that I not only defied him, but also survived. From that point on, he’s been determined to establish his supremacy and control over me. Raping me was just the ultimate display of that dominance. Intellectually I can understand that part of it. I’m just struggling to accept that what I did, in submitting to him, may have saved my life. You’ve known me for a lot of years. I don’t submit to anyone. But I gave in to him.”

“Mac, stop and think about how long he had you, and just what kind of things he was doing to you,” Jack said. “One thing we were taught in SERE training is everyone is going to break. Your captor, if given enough time, is going to find that thing that you just can’t take. Murdoc just happened to find yours. Or maybe it was a combination of things. But, kiddo, you have to learn to deal with it. If you can’t even admit it happened, how can you ever learn how to move on? You know Morgan and I will do whatever we need to in order to help you out. I just want you to heal completely.”

“I know,” Mac said. “I do too. And I promise; I _am_ working on it. That’s why I’m working with Morgan, remember? But you didn’t answer my question earlier. Given how you found me, was it obvious Murdoc had raped me?”

“Not to anyone else who wasn’t me,” Jack assured. “I’d already covered you up, and the medics were too busy trying to save your life to notice anything else.”

“But you knew.” It was both a question and a statement.

“Kid, you’re forgetting my sense of smell,” Jack reminded him gently. “I didn’t have to see you. I could smell it as soon as I walked in the building. I’m pretty sure the smell of blood and stale sweat covered it up for everyone else, but yeah. I knew. I might have self-indulged in a little denial at what it really meant at first, but it’s really hard to hide something like that from a Wolf. It’s a good thing he won’t get a second chance.”

Mac suddenly blanched, prompting Jack to ask, “Talk to me, hoss. What’s going on in your head?”

“I…I had…hadn’t thought about that. What happens when he comes back,” Mac whispered. “I…I don’t think I can face him again. After the things he did to me? The things I begged him to do? I can’t…I can’t face him again, Jack.”

“Well, now, that’s where he screwed up a second time,” his partner replied. “Remember I told you the Faoladh and the Fomorians are natural enemies? He should have either made sure you were dead before he left, or he never should have tried to kill you in the first place. But, because he did, and because I Changed you, the next time you come face-to-face with him, you won’t be facing him unarmed. I’m pretty sure, as soon as you even smell him coming, your Wolf is going to take over, and then it won’t matter. You’ll be stronger, faster, and immune to his venom. You’ll be able to rip his throat out if he even tries to touch you. Assuming I don’t get to him first.”

“How can you be sure? That other Wolf wasn’t able to defend himself.”

“From the sounds of it, that poor creature wasn’t a true Wolf, and he certainly wasn’t Faoladh. According to Sean, it’s a natural reaction for us to go Wolf in the presence of a Fomorian. The only reason I didn’t as soon as I walked in, I think, was because he wasn’t physically there, and because I was so focused on getting to you . If I’d actually come fact-to-face with him, I don’t think I’d have been able to hold off the Change. When we face him again, your natural instincts should kick in. Your Wolf won’t let him hurt you like that again.”

“I don’t think it will work, Jack. I don’t think I can Change. You remember what happened last time.”

“What happened last time is you ignored the doc’s advice and tried to Change too soon,” Jack countered. “Since that sludge he’d injected you with was in your system before I Changed you, your Faoladh resistance didn’t recognize it as toxic. Apparently that’s our one weakness against the Fomorian; if they can catch you in human form, we’re still vulnerable to their venom. We just didn’t know that at the time. With it in your system, it slowed your regeneration time, so all those claw marks tried to break back open when you Shifted. You’re lucky we were able to get the bleeding stopped without a return to Medical. Man, Doc was not happy with you. But all that crap is gone now. I truly think you could Shift with no problems if you really wanted to.”

* * *

Once Jack left, Mac decided to take the time to talk things out with Morgan.

“How are you doing,” Morgan asked. “You had a lot of heavy emotion thrown at you today.”

“I have a lot to think about,” Mac said. “Mine and Jack’s relationship is evolving, what this whole Faoladh thing, and I need time to figure out how I feel about it. I haven’t even begun to figure out what it means to be an Alpha now that I’m also a Wolf. I also need to think about how comfortable I feel going back out in the field, knowing my death will now mean Jack’s too. But it’s something we’ll need to discuss as a Pack.”

“And how are you handling what Murdoc did to you? This was the first time I’ve head you verbally acknowledge that he raped you.”

Mac actually gave him a genuine smile, small though it was. “I told you before, Jack helps me deal with the fear. For whatever reason, things don’t seem quite so scary when he’s around. Not even what Murdoc did to me.”

“He is a natural guardian,” Morgan agreed. “Which is why I think you need to consider attempting the Change again.”

“But last time…”

“From what I heard, last time you weren’t in the right physical or mental state to attempt it. You’re doing much better now. I want you to consider this: could part of your fear stem from the fact you’re afraid committing to the Change will mean giving up control of your body once again?”

Mac gave him a considering look. “I hadn’t thought about it in those terms. I mean, I know Jack is in complete control over his Wolf, but it’s one more alteration to my body. Yes, I gave Jack permission to do what he did, but I wasn’t really thinking in terms of what it would really mean.”

“You already trust Jack with everything else in your life,” Morgan observed. “I think you ought to trust him with this too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't use the Faoladh mythology and not bring the Fomorians into it. In my mind, they make perfects foils, just like Mac and Murdoc. Please allow me my artistic license.


	14. Breath of the Night

After giving it some thought and talking it over with Jack, Mac decided to attempt the Change the following Saturday. According to Sean, via Jack, having his pack around should make the Change easier for Mac. Knowing if he waited too long the anxiety would get to him and potentially create a mental block, Mac decided to make his attempt first thing in the morning. Things were on track, until it dawned on Mac that he was going to have to strip down in order to Change.

“I can’t Jack,” he muttered, panic causing him to breathe heavily. “I can’t bare myself like that in front of other people. Not even my family.”

“Relax, homey,” Jack soothed. “I have this handled.” From somewhere he pulled a light weight bathrobe Mac had never seen before. “I knew this issue might arise, so I got this for you. This way, you go to your room and strip down as far as seems comfortable to you, and then you can put the robe on. Then, when you shift, the only thing we’ll have to get you out of is the robe.”

With a look of relieved thanks, Mac grabbed the robe and disappeared into his room. When he emerged a few minutes later he had the robe tied tightly around him. He might have felt silly under normal circumstances, but right now the knee-length garment provided an essential level of comfort and a bolster to his self-confidence.

“Let’s do this,” Mac said, leading the way to the living room. His self-assurance lasted until he actually got there. There, surrounded by his pack, Mac felt at a loss.

“Easy, there hoss,” Jack said. “Take a deep breath. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. And if you’re not ready for this today, that’s okay. There is no shame in admitting you need more time.”

“Sean didn’t let you wait to Change.”

“Different circumstances, dude. I didn’t have a boatload of mental, physical, and emotional trauma I was trying to overcome at the same time. Besides, as Sean recognized, my Wolf is a lot more natural to my nature. I just needed that little push to let him loose. You’re going to make a magnificent Wolf, but it doesn’t have to be today.”

“That’s just it. I think it does.”

“What do you need from us,” Riley asked. “We’ll do whatever we can to help.”

“I feel ridiculous saying this, but I need all the positive thoughts I can get. And maybe stay as quiet as possible. I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing, and I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Maybe that’s your problem,” Bozer said. “You’re thinking too hard about this. From what I’ve seen of Jack’s Wolf, it’s more instinctive.”

“Hey, bud, I want you to do something for me,” Jack said. “Make yourself comfortable, preferably on the floor, but wherever suits you.”

Mac took a seat on the floor and leaned back against the couch next to Jack, legs hugged up to his chest.

“Good, now close your eyes. Take a couple of deep breaths and let yourself relax. Don’t try and force the Change. Just let yourself feel safe. Your family is around you, and nothing is going to hurt you here. You have my word as your Overwatch and your Beta.”

Mac followed the instructions. With his eyes closed, he took several deep breaths, allowing the tension in his body begin to fade away. The sound of Jack’s voice soothed him, giving him a sense of safety and security nothing else could. As the peace settled over him, a rush of warmth seemed to flood his body, and between heartbeats a large Wolf appeared where Mac had been sitting.

Mac’s eyes flew open when he heard Jack give a light laugh. He went to leap to his feet, only to stumble over his new four feet, and the bathrobe still wrapped around him.

“Whoa, easy there homey,” Jack said. “Let me help you there.”

It took a moment, and a bit of fumbling as Mac tried to help, but they eventually got the bathrobe dislodged, and Wolf Mac stood in the middle of the floor in all his furry glory. Compared to Jack, Mac’s Wolf was much leaner, and not quite as tall. His fur was pure white, and he had bright blue eyes.

“Mac, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you are gorgeous,” Riley exclaimed.

Mac gave her a large, canine smile.

“My, what big teeth you have,” a new, unfamiliar voice said. The group whirled around to look at the petite woman standing at the edge of the living room. Her long, dark hair was pull back in a loose braid, and she was wearing business casual in a combination of white, silver, and icy blue.

“Well, my lad, I’m impressed,” she said, smiling at Mac. “After your encounter with my Fomorian associate, I wasn’t sure you’d make it this far, but I guess you Faoladh are made of sterner stuff than I thought. Of course, being a dual-blood could have something to do with that. I can sense the power of your heritage, but I can’t quite make out what it is. Let’s see if I can clarify matters.” 

She waved a dainty hand in Mac’s direction, and he suddenly found himself, back in his human body. To his surprise, and relief, he was fully dressed. Sort of. In place of his normal clothes, however, he seemed to be wearing some sort of tunic-type garment that was definitely Greek in nature and style. The scars that usually covered his arm and legs were still present, but they had somehow taken on the appearance of tribal-like tattoos.

“Fascinating. I have never yet met a descendant of Hephaestus. Interesting dual blood indeed.”

“Lady, who the hell are you,” Jack asked, a touch of Wolf in his voice.

“Down, mutt,” the stranger said coldly, and a chill breeze that seemed to come out of nowhere blew through the room. “I have offered you no insult or injury, and I’ll take none in return.”

“You’re not an invited guest, and you haven’t extended us the good manners of requesting guesting rights,” Jack countered. “I’ll offer you the same consideration you extend to us.”

“Someone has been taking lessons from an old Wolf,” the woman said with a chilly smile. “But you are correct. I neither requested entrance nor extended guest courtesy. Allow me to rectify that now.” She looked at Mac and said, “You have my word I’ll not bring harm to your or yours while under your roof, so long as you pledge to reciprocate.”

Mac nodded. “You have my word.”

“Lovely. Now, might I impose upon you for something to drink? I have been traveling for a while.”

A glance passes between Mac and Bozer, and dark-skinned young man moved to the kitchen to fetch their unexpected guest a glass of water. Both of them felt it safe for Mac, as Alpha and host, to stay where he was.

“Lovely, young man. Very refreshing,” the woman said as she drained the glass. “Now, I’m sure you have questions. For the next fifteen minutes you may ask what you will, no strings attached. After that, you will either have to pay the fee, or go without the answer. Your time starts now.”

“Let’s start with an easy one,” Mac said. “Who are you?”

“I believe my servant already gave you my name. Well, the name he knows me by that is.”

“Maeve.”

“Sometimes,” the woman acknowledged. “In other days and times I was better known as Mab.”

“Queen of the Unseelie Court Mab,” Bozer asked in astonishment.

“The very same.”

“Well, your majesty, what’s your stake in all this,” Riley asked. “I mean, why take an interest in Connelly’s personal vendetta against humanity?”

“Because Connelly’s goals line up so nicely with my own, of course.”

“What do you mean,” Mac inquired.

“I have been involved in a long-term strategy. You see, unlike my flightier counterpart in the Seelie Court, I could read the writing on the walls when you mud-monkeys began to spread across our ancestral lands. I watched as, one after the other, the creatures of the night were being eradicated, and I knew my court’s time was limited. So I set a plan in motion. You see, I have always appreciate science _and_ magic in equal measure. I just use whichever is going to work best in any given situation. Therefore, with the help of my servants around the world, I began to gather the genetic material from as many ‘monsters’ and creatures as I could. Through careful breeding and husbandry, if you will, I introduced and preserved that precious genetic material in the human family itself. And no one ever knew; your pathetic scientists simply dismissed those bits of genetic code as mere ‘junk DNA.’”

“What does that have to do with Brian Connelly?”

“I needed the metamorphic component found in his blood, of course. Using that, plus a few other things, I have been able to unlock the monster DNA hidden in mankind’s own genetic blueprint. For others, like this lovely young lady here, additional, unanticipated, skill and abilities are make themselves known. As your delightful Director Webber pointed out, more and more creatures are emerging from history’s shadow.”

Despite himself, Mac couldn’t help but be honestly impressed. The level of skill and patience it took to plan and carry something like this was impressive; monstrous to a certain extent, certainly, but impressive. He just had one question.

“How did you do it?”

“Haven’t you figured it out? I left you a very obvious clue.”

“The water,” Mac exclaimed, Connelly’s odd gift finally making sense. “You put the activating agent in the Saoirse water.”

“Such a bright lad,” Maeve cooed. “Saoirse means freedom. I’m helping set the world’s monsters free once more.” She glanced at a delicate watch on her wrist. “Time’s almost up, children. We might have time for one more question.”

“I have one,” Jack said. “You mentioned a Fomorian. Were you the one to set him loose on my kid here?”

Maeve gave a predatory smile. The temperature dropped significantly, and the group was certain they were seeing Mab, the Unseelie Queen in that moment.

“Alas, that lovely bit of mischief wasn’t any of my doing. He did beautiful work though; I’d be proud to call him one of mine. But no. You should look inwards to find _that_ crafty mastermind. And now, my lovelies, your time is up. Any further questions and you’ll have to pay the price.”

Mac opened his mouth to thank her, but Bozer’s hand flew out and clamped over it before he could speak.

“The information you have provided has been most useful,” Bozer told her. “Depart with peace between us.”

“Very good, little one,” Mab said. “Someone knows how to interact intelligently with the Fae. Pity. But as all has been conducted in correctness, I will depart with peace between us.” And as abruptly as she had appeared, she was gone. 

With her departure, the Greek clothes Mac had been dressed in likewise disappeared, and he scrambled for the bathrobe he’d been wearing earlier. Once he was covered once more, he looked at his companions. They were all wearing the same stunned expression on their faces he was sure he had on his.

“Well, that happened,” Riley finally commented. “Whatever _that_ was.”

“Do we really believe she wasn’t behind Murdoc’s actions,” Jack asked.

“I do,” Mac said. “Murdoc was in and out the entire he had me. I’m pretty sure he was working for someone on the outside. His time with me was like his bonus or compensation. And the way he had Jack’s personal cell number, and the email information for the entire employee base at Phoenix? No, he was working with someone on the inside, as scary as that thought is.”

“We need to let Matty know about our visitor,” Bozer said. “She already knows about Murdock, but she’s still searching for Maeve. She’d probably appreciate knowing we not only found her, but we now know her plan.”  
  


“For all the good it will do us,” Jack said. “No one’s going to believe bottled water is turning people into monsters.”

“Right now, Mab’s plan is the last thing I’m concerned about,” Mac said. “I think we need to focus on the internal threat. Whoever it was sold me out to Murdoc, and then turned around and tortured Jack when he saved my life. They also gave Murdoc access to our internal communications on a company wide scale. Matty said it’s been a nightmare trying to get everyone’s email address changed _and_ update the security protocols. And it’s all thanks to our mystery insider.”

“I agree,” Jack said. “Stopping the monsters outside won’t mean much if we’re eaten by the one on the inside. Guess it’s time to go hunting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mab was always going to be the figure behind the monsters. Hopefully my explanation of how she did it makes sense, at least in a fictional world way.
> 
> I'm not real thrilled with the ending, but it was all I could come up with. I will be working on the third installment in this story, but I have to figure out where I want to go with it. I know who the internal bad guy is, I just need to craft a story to create the reveal. I will get it up as soon as I get it figured out.


End file.
